Innocence
by Europe28
Summary: The English nation gave a slight groan, clutching at his chest with one hand, and trying to control Alfred's feet with the other.   "Now, now," Francis arrived with obedient little Matthew in toll, "you mustn't kick England, he's not as tough as you,"
1. Chapter 1

_**Important Author's note: I'm not sure about this story; I'm worried it might be too complicated, so this is a preview of the first chapter. I'll only continue it if that's what people think is best. If it is too complicated don't be afraid to tell me, and it can be a story that just stands as a chapter.**_

"But I don't want to!" Alfred gave a large protest, struggling against Arthur, "lessons are so boring, why can't I just go out and play?" His sharp little feet kicked out, striking Arthur accidentally, neat in the chest.

The English nation gave a slight groan, clutching at his chest with one hand, and trying to control Alfred's feet with the other.

"Now, now," Francis arrived with obedient little Matthew in toll, "you mustn't kick England, he's not as tough as you,"

"Shut-up idiot!" The Brit snapped, though he was grateful that Francis had arrived; he seemed to be able to deal with Alfred a lot better than he could.

Their other little colonies were already in the lesson room, peering round from their desks to see what all the commotion was.

Originally, Arthur and Francis had agreed to share this house because it was easier to take care of Matthew and Alfred when they were working together, but soon a few of their other child nations had joined them.

That's how Arthur saw the relationship, and he never let Francis forget it. It was simply for convenience. The two had rooms as far apart as possible, and usually the Englishman insisted on a meter radius around him being Frenchman free; apart from in little emergencies like now, when Francis had to pull Alfred off him.

Being the slowly-ageing-nations that they were, it was too risky to employ a tutor for the children, so Arthur taught them their academic subjects, before sending them to Francis to focus more on the art subjects.

Whatever they could do to teach them about being a nation, they did between them.

When Alfred was finally sitting at his desk, with Matthew behind him, Arthur gave a sweeping motion for Francis to go away.

The little nations in the house consisted of Seychelles, Australia, America, Canada, and Hong Kong. Out of all the children the only obedient ones were France's colonies. Arthur didn't understand why his colonies seemed so rebellious.

Arthur especially disliked the fact he was addressed with a different name by practically all of them.

"Yo, Arthur what are we doing today?" Alfred shouted out to the front of the room, slumping in his seat, looking for something to distract him, before Arthur got started.

"Alfred just be patient, dad's trying his best" Matthew whispered quietly.

Bruce, the Australian nation also called him dad, which he supposed was the closest thing to respect, that he got from any of his underlings. Hong Kong never said anything so a mere prod, or point in his general direction was the only address.

Seychelles was the worst, "mummy can we do Geography again, I like that one."

Francis had probably given her the idea of calling him that when they first moved in together.

But for some reason they all addressed Francis as papa.

Arthur sometimes felt like demanding the forces of the earth what Francis was doing that was so different to him!

When the exhausting hour of lessons was over Arthur sent them to Francis before falling down into his chair. Why wouldn't they just sit quietly and let him explain things to them?

They spent a lot of time either talking or passing notes about how fun Francis' lessons were.

Sighing, Arthur wondered from the room. His pride had kept him from watching Francis' lessons, even though he knew he was welcome at any time, but now his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

As he approached the music room Arthur was slightly overwhelmed at the music that fired from the room. Someone was playing the piano in a fashion he's never heard before. It wasn't any sort of respectable dance music he'd heard before.

Peering round the slightly open door, he realised it was Alfred playing the piano. Arthur didn't even know he could play the piano, again this was everyone keeping something from him.

Folding his arms, and trying not to huff out loud, he turned round and stormed from the house. He'd go see if any of the pubs were still open; the American pubs all seemed to close so early compared to back home.

As a strict rule they usually kept away from the local town as a strict rule. It was the first rule that every nation learnt; not to reveal yourself; unless you were very high in government, most people didn't even know such a thing as a nation existed.

Of course every now and then, someone shot at them, and was amazed when they didn't drop down dead. They then had to discretely deal with them.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Arthur's mouth; the funniest example of this was probably when he and Francis had been walking around in Paris in the 15th Century. Some madman burst into the café they were in and stabbed at the first person they'd seen- which happened to be Francis.

It had taken them ages to clean up all the witnesses.

It was a messy job being a nation, but they were used to it by now.

Though, it was preferable to avoid the situation.

They ordered most of the food for delivery to the house, to be dropped off outside, so most of the time no one even saw them.

Occasionally Alfred or the other children played with a few of the town children, but children never remembered things like that, so it was relatively harmless.

It was only because Arthur was feeling particularly pathetic at the moment that he'd come into the town; he could always pass himself off as a traveller, from one of the more northern states.

He and Francis were always fighting over how much of America they owned, so it was debatable at the moment whether they were in the French or British part.

Francis came up with the stupidest names for his places; what sort of names were New Orléans and Detroit anyway?

New York was a brilliant name, and so were all the places Arthur had named.

Alfred seemed equally fond of all the areas he was split over. There were even a few places Spain had named like California and Florida, of course they were still trying to send him back into the Southern continent beneath America; couldn't he be satisfied with just that.

Thankfully the pub was still open, it was a little full for Arthur's liking, but he supposed with all the farm workers just having brought in the harvest they must be celebrating.

Sneaking away like this was always Arthur's best revenge on whatever Francis was doing. For hundreds of years now, possibly since about the midpoint of the Hundred Year War Francis had prevented him from going to most places alone.

It had been fine when he was younger, but now Francis seemed to treat him like a young girl who hadn't properly been introduced to the world.

It annoyed the Brit, but he didn't like being around too many people, so he accepted it most of the time; it also meant he had the perfect way to tick Francis off when he was angry at him.

Something deep down was telling him it wasn't really Francis' fault that the kids preferred his subjects to his, but he pushed it aside.

"Haven't seen you around before," he had been just about to order his first drink when one of the young men wondered up to him.

"I'm just passing through" Arthur replied, it was easy to lie to humans.

The man seemed to blink at him for a moment, then looked angry, "you've got no business coming here!" He snapped,

"Why, is there a 'No tourists allowed' policy?" The Brit asked sarcasticly, turning back to order his drink; only to find himself seized by the back of the shirt and pulled onto the floor.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Some of the man's friends were patting their friend's shoulder, trying to pull him back to his table. They glanced down at Arthur and seemed to hesitated.

What the hell was wrong with these people!

Getting to his feet and dusting himself off, he decided to try another pub; or maybe he might just wonder around until he was sure Francis was panicking.

"Is he a witch?" The youngest of the group asked with a quiver in his voice,

"I don't know" another replied, standing in Arthur's path to the door, "there's definitely something funny about him..."

"He's making us think things!" Another shouted.

The rest of them murmured in agreement.

"Your mad" Arthur shrugged, trying to push past, "what on earth are you talking about?" The question was entirely rhetorical, but the men exchanged glances.

"I have a wife you know, I will not be led into the devil's sin!" A fist collided round his face, knocking him to the ground again.

These men were probably just drunk, Arthur had no idea what they were talking about. He'd often heard that those with green eyes were suspected of witchcraft, but that didn't explain why they all thought he was putting a spell on them.

Besides, Arthur didn't know any spells that put ideas into people's heads; and he preferred the term Warlock, rather than witch; it sounded much more masculine.

Wiping a smear of blood from his chin, Arthur gritted his teeth, this was a risky situation. He never had this problem when he'd come into town with Francis.

"I know him!" One of the men suddenly called to the others, "he's one of that lot that lives in that big house on the hill!"

"What if they're all witches!" Another yelled in panic.

Brilliant, now they thought everyone else were witches. This plan had really backfired on him.

"Look, there's been a misunderstanding, I'm not a _witch_, and I have no idea what your talking about, I'm not from around here."

"Shut up!" The Brit found himself being lifted from the floor and thrown out of the door.

Most of the men stayed in the pub, but a small number followed him out.

Now he was out in the open Arthur turned to run.

Someone seized him round the throat pulling him further down the alley down the side of the pub.

"What the hell!" He kicked out at any of them he could reach, reminding him a little of Alfred when told he had to sit his lessons.

It was fast approaching evening now that the days were getting shorter, Francis must be worried by now.

Swallowing his pride for a second, he began to wish that Francis would come and get him. When the second was over he was horrified at the thought he'd been hoping for help, he could deal with these idiots by himself.

"May I be forgiven," he heard them talk to the sky, using one hand to trace a cross over their hearts. The strongest still held Arthur with his free hand.

Taking the moment of peace to think, Arthur located the hand round his chest and bit down as hard as he could, tasting blood in his mouth as he broke through the skin.

"The Bastard bit me!"

Unfortunately he did not let go.

"Should we kill it?" Another asked nervously, pulling a small knife from his side.

Let them try, Arthur smirked; then he'd have an excuse to kill them all.

"Not yet..." The one that held him spoke slowly and hesitantly.

"No way," a few of the others were leaving the crowd; everyone seemed to know what was going on except him.

He found out soon enough when he was slammed head first against a wall, and rough hands found their way inside his trousers.

"So here you are."

Forgetting himself, Arthur gave a sigh of relief; he recognised that voice. Francis could look pretty scary when he wanted to, so hopefully that would drive these bastards away.

But it seemed the man who had hold of him just couldn't resist pressing one finger inside of him.

Arthur arched his back, hissing in pain.

"Get your hands off him!" Francis suddenly barked, his smooth, controlled voice gone. When no one moved, Francis gave the order, "Arthur close your eyes."

Without arguing Arthur did as he was told.

There were frighted sounds around him, along with another noises that he mentally blocked out. He didn't open his eyes until Francis' hand was on his shoulder.

Looking round, he saw the the men lying face down on the ground; no trace of blood anywhere. That was Francis' style.

Arthur had no idea what it was that Francis did when he told Arthur to close his eyes, but he knew what had happened.

A nation when it feels most threatened can reveal itself in the most inhuman way possible. Of course Francis hadn't gone the whole way for a simple slaughter like this. The only nations that had ever gone the whole way were Rome and Germania, that had ended up killing each other and scattering their people.

Besides a nation could only do that if their country was under serious threat.

No nation was meant to see another go completely berserk, it was something private and probably offensive in some high law or another.

Francis had done something like this before, the last time Arthur had sneaked off. He'd met someone in London who offered to take him for a drink; then Francis had arrived and told him to close his eyes.

"Are you okay?" The Frenchman was looking him up and down for any serious wounds. Apart from looking incredibly frightened, Francis still looked perfect, with not a hair out of place. "Did they do anything to you before I got here?"

"I'm fine!" Arthur snapped, pushing the other away from him, "I could have handled it,"

"So I see" Francis muttered, "I told you not to wonder off!"

"And since when were you in charge of what I can and can't do?" Arthur challenged back.

"Look around you, you stupid Brit, what happened when you did go out on your own!"

Holding his tongue, Arthur said nothing as they walked back in the direction of the house together.


	2. Chapter 2

"The sky's a funny colour" Francis murmured, trying to make conversation again. He didn't understand why Arthur was so mad about what had happened. He'd told the proud Brit not to wonder off without him, and he'd done just that and caused problems.

"Suppose so" the Englishman muttered in reply, still looking annoyed, and refusing to even look at his taller companion.

"Why did you wonder off?"

Then it all came out. Arthur burst into tears, clutching the front of Francis' shirt, "why do they like you more than me!" He sobbed, giving the French nation a small shake, "it's not fair!"

For a moment Francis was startled, then he smiled, "of course they don't like me more, you're just a much more difficult person to be honest with."

Seeing as Arthur was in such a state, Francis risked putting his arms around the other's back, giving him a quick squeeze.

"What's for dinner?" Arthur pulled back, looking embarrassed, rubbing the tears quickly from his eyes.

"I thought we'd have Poulet tonight, sound good?" Releasing Arthur from his arms, they began to walk side by side again.

Now he was calmer, Arthur did look up at the funny orange sky that Francis had mentioned.

"Oh God, you don't think..." The Brit stopped suddenly, eyes widening; remembering the men in the pub's theory that everyone in the house were witches; and what did you do with witches.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" Francis looked at the sky again.

"S-Smoke..." Arthur's green eyes had widened, then he began running in the direction of the house.

It took Francis a moment longer to catch sight of the black smoke right above their house, but soon he was speeding after Arthur.

Without pausing, both of them charged into the inferno, calling the names of the five children.

"Alfred, Chelles, Kaoru, Bruce, Matthew!"

The entire house was falling apart around them. Beams crashed from the ceiling above. Eventually they had to break out of the house for air, only to find the five children all standing outside.

"Thank God," Arthur rushed forwards, hugging them all at the same time, his previous anger vanishing when they clutched at him back.

"M-My bear" Matthew sniffed, "I forgot Kumajiro!" He suddenly made as if to run back into the burning house. Arthur pulled him back, but he couldn't stop Alfred slipping under his arm and running back into the building.

Still clutching at Matthew, Arthur threw wild frightened eyes at Francis, who was already hurrying after the boy.

"Alfred come back!"

It was a tense few moments, where Arthur knelt trembling on the grass with the children either crying or just clutching at his clothes.

After what felt like hours Francis burst back from the flames, Alfred in his arms, who in turn was clinging to the paw of a slightly burnt white teddy bear.

"I saved him for you Matty" Alfred beamed, handing over the bear, "I'm a hero right."

Exploding with tears of gratitude, Matthew threw his arms around Alfred, "Thank you, you saved my bear!"

Without thinking Arthur got to his feet, running towards Francis and hugging him tightly and briefly. He pulled back quickly, slapping Francis round the head, "how could you leave the kids on their own!"

The possibility of an argument was cut off when Seychelles took hold of Arthur's trouser leg, "mum, what do we do now?" She asked, "are we going to build a new house?"

Sighing, Arthur picked her up, "I think we're going to have to move as well; maybe further up North to the _English _part of America, it's closer to Canada as well."

Matthew pricked up his ears at this, looking excited.

"How are we going to get there?" Bruce questioned, folding his little arms, rubbing at a black smudge on his cheek.

The Brit hesitated in replying, so Francis did instead, "we'll have to walk I'm afraid, it'll take quite a long time, but we're nations, we have more stamina than humans."

"But, my dolls..." Seychelles whimpered in Arthur's arms.

Francis took her off Arthur, nuzzling his face in her hair, "all gone I'm afraid."

Of course nations didn't need to eat to live, but it didn't mean they didn't feel the pains of hunger, or drained of energy.

France still had Seychelles, as the only girl, on his shoulders, while the others walked; but they were all thoroughly hungry by the time the sun had completely set.

"I'm tired" Matthew sniffed, still clutching Kumajiro's paw, dragging him along the floor- making him dirtier than he already was.

Spotting a barn, Francis pointed to it, signalling to Arthur they should at least sleep, then go on in the morning.

The children were so exhausted that they fell asleep almost immediately.

Arthur wasn't used to sleeping so close to Francis, and they really were close. The winters were bitterly cold, so it was the logical thing to do.

He had Alfred and Matthew curled against his back, while Seychelles lay between the two of them, and the other two were curled against Francis' back.

"This is all my fault" Arthur muttered, when he knew the kids were definitely asleep,

"Nonsense" Francis scoffed, "you didn't know what was going to happen,"

"They thought I was a witch," Arthur gave a small laugh, "said I was making them think sinful things," he shivered a little at the memory, and the cold of the night air.

"You do" Francis smiled, kissing his forehead, before closing his eyes and drifting into a light sleep.

"What?" Arthur blinked, what on earth had Francis meant by that? It wasn't a usual thing, apart from a few times he's never had attention of that sort, and never before had anyone gone so far with him.

Though he suppose Francis had been around him most of the time.

A strange thought snuck into his head, was Francis doing something to distract them? He was the nation of love after all, and naturally seemed to turn attention to himself.

"Ridiculous" Arthur shrugged, managing to finally let himself drift off to sleep.

He was woken the next morning to Alfred poking him in the gut.

"Go back to your own room" Arthur muttered, waving him away, still half asleep. Even without checking a clock he knew it was too early in the morning to be getting up.

He heard a few murmurs of conversation, then a pair of strong arms slipped underneath him, lifting him into the air. Arthur was vaguely aware that he must be travelling, but he was too tired to care, so let himself drift back to sleep.

When he finally did awaken, it was a little later in the morning.

Processing the situation he was reminded of what had happened the other day, and why he wasn't in his cosy large bed now.

Then his vision began to sharpen, and his eyes travelled along the chest up to the face of the one who was carrying him.

Francis was looking exhausted. Arthur could also see he had Seychelles asleep on his shoulders.

"I can walk idiot; you should have woken me up" The Brit muttered bashfully, a little surprised that his tone came out that way.

"I didn't want to disturb you," Francis hid the tired face quickly, pulling a wide smile, "you'd have just been in a bad mood if we had."

"The only reason I'm not shouting and struggling is because I'm worried I might wake Chelles" Arthur grumbled, "put me down now."

Rolling his eyes, Francis stopped, tilting his arms, and helping Arthur back onto the dusty road.

"Can you carry me now papa?" Matthew asked, holding out his arms.

Knowing Francis was about to agree, Arthur picked the Canadian child up instead, "I'll do it."

Alfred, Bruce, and Kaoru were looking half dead; Alfred had even developed a limp in one of his feet. Stomachs were rumbling audibly.

"Do you think there's somewhere we can eat nearby?" Arthur asked Alfred, knowing they needed water too. It may be heading up to winter, but that didn't mean it was cold in the south during the build up to midday.

Closing his eyes wearily, Alfred scanned his mental map of his country, then nodded silently. Forcing himself a little further ahead so he could show them the way.

"Poor things" Arthur whispered to himself, feeling a small pang in his usually strict heart. This was all his fault, he couldn't help but keep thinking that.

He'd be sure not to wonder away again, especially while he and Francis were with the children; it just wasn't fair for them to suffer because of their master's arguments.

"We'll find somewhere to stop" Francis put a hand on his shoulder, stroking Seychelles' hair in a soothing way with the other, "maybe this place Alfred's found even has an inn,"

"Are you sure we should be stopping somewhere public while we're still in the state?" Arthur looked unsure, adjusting Matthew's weight in his arms, making the sick looking boy moan. The others were better with the heat than little Canada was.

The place Alfred had located was about two miles away.

It was a reasonably quiet settlement with a shabby looking Inn, but it was better than nothing.

"We should order a room" Francis suggested, making towards it, but Arthur caught his sleeve,

"Two" he corrected, "even if I didn't mind sharing a room with a Frog, doing something like that would draw attention to us," he blushed, but didn't continue.

Francis knew what he meant, "fine, I'll buy a room for me, Matthew, and Chelles; then you buy one for you and the others."

He held his hand out towards Alfred.

"Why do I have to pay?" The American whined, having found his voice and a little energy now he knew they were stopping, and probably going to get something to eat.

"Because I'm carrying Canada, and me and you are the only ones that use pounds and shillings" Arthur told him.

Sighing, Alfred rummaged in his previously empty pocket and pulled out a fistful of pounds, handing them over to Francis.

Arthur and the other three children waited outside for about ten minuets before heading into the Inn.

"Do you want dinner?" A woman asked. She looked in her late years, with dark hair, and a slight trace of stubble.

"Yes please" Arthur nodded, digging his hand into his own empty pocket to pull out the right amount, handing it over to the woman.

"My son'll bring it up" she grumbled, handing them an oil stained key.

Arthur was slightly disgusted to find the state of the room; it didn't even have a bath; but the children seemed happy enough, already wondering what dinner would be.

Dinner turned out to be rather stale looking bread and mouldy sausages, but everyone ate without complaining. They also got a swig of dirty looking water each- confident they wouldn't get ill because of their immunities to almost anything.

It made Arthur snigger a little to think of Francis and his picky children looking through 'dinner' with horror.

"I'll be back in a moment" he promised, patting Bruce's head, and getting to his feet.

He knocked on Francis' door before pushing it open.

It seemed Matthew and Chelles had forced their food down and were now looking a little green, whereas Francis hadn't even touched his.

"Il est dégoûtant!" He exclaimed when he saw Arthur standing in the doorway, "but let me guess, you and your little tasteless monsters managed to swallow it down?"

"Oui, En effet, nous ne" _Yes, Indeed we did _Arthur smirked, taking out his handkerchief to wipe at Matthew and Chelles' dusty faces. He could deal with his colonies looking dirty, he was used to it; but with France's it seemed almost wrong for them not to look perfect.

When he'd managed to clean most of the dirt from their faces, he hesitated, before strolling boldly up to Francis. Now it just seemed weird that he could see the smaller nation's faces and not their master's.

Sitting on the bed next to the Frenchman he began to scrub his face viciously. "I'll have to throw this rag out now" he muttered as he worked, "can't have it smelling of Frog stuff."

Rubbing his sore cheeks, Francis pushed Arthur back.

"Mon Dieu, I can't wait till I can take a proper bath again... And des enfants, there hair is getting dirty too..." The French nation looked thoroughly depressed.

"You'll just have to wait a while..." Arthur held back from adding 'Frog' to the end of his sentence; he didn't like to see Francis as low as this- unless he himself had caused it. "Cheer up" he forced an awkward smile, "we'll get up north in a week or so; especially if we keep up the pace we're at now. It won't be very deep north, but it's good enough... I'm sure they'll be a large house for sale; my people are always building them."

Jolting a little when Francis kissed his nose, Arthur held his fists back. The Frenchman was just delirious because of the travelling and dirt.


	3. Chapter 3

Turning in his sleep, Alfred suddenly found himself awake.

He could hear murmurs outside, and footsteps pacing around.

"Are you sure?" A strong southern accented male voice asked, he sounded a little uncertain, "besides, what if they're armed?"

"There are children around," Alfred recognised the voice belonging to the woman who had admitted them, "God knows what they're doing with them, but it doesn't matter, no one who isn't loaded carries that much cash on them. I'll go deal with the ones next door, you do here. The smaller blond looked like an easier target anyway."

"Arthur wake up!" He howled, realising much later it would have been better to wake him up quietly.

The Brit leapt into the air, upturning the other two children in the bed.

Before he could open his mouth to scold the American child, two people burst through the door. It took a moment for Arthur to process who they were, and that they were armed with a gun and knife. But by that point they had hold of Alfred round the hook of his neck.

"Now hand over all the money you have" the woman growled, pointing the knife at Alfred's head, tightening her hold on his throat. She motioned her son towards Arthur, who instinctively took a step backwards, pushing the other two children behind him.

"We don't have any more" Arthur told them, shooting a worried glance at Alfred, "you can try the bastard next door, he has quite a bit."

The two aggressors seemed to stop for a moment to consider this; just enough for Alfred to kick his captor sharply in the chest with his strong little legs.

The woman grunted, dropping Alfred on the floor.

The small child charged towards Arthur and the others, diving between the Brit's legs and out of sight.

Sighing, the woman shook her head, "I'll leave them to you," she turned back toward the door, probably heading to Francis' room.

Biting his lip, Arthur tried to protect the colonies behind him with his body. Of course they wouldn't die, but he didn't think the small children were ready to go through the first trauma of passing briefly into death.

"Back off!" He drew himself to his full height, gritting his teeth, thinking quickly. The gun was levelling with his head.

"Hand over the money!" The man ordered, "I will shoot you if you don't, then I'll just take it anyway!"

"Shoot me then" Arthur shrugged, smirking, "see what happens," he was gaining a little more confidence in the situation; he was quite a good judge when it came to guessing if someone was going to shoot or not. This guy wasn't going to.

The gun was thrown to the floor in anger, then the man shot forwards, grabbing Arthur by his hair.

The Brit wrinkled his nose at the horrible stench; had this guy even heard of a bath?

However confident he felt, he couldn't help but whimper when the man pulled hard on his messy hair.

"Let him go!" Bruce shouted, trying to kick at the shins of the man from under Arthur's legs.

"Go away you brat!" Striking out his foot, the man kicked Bruce hard in the chest, knocking him backwards, pulling Arthur forwards by his hair.

The situation had changed the moment he had let out that whimper; Arthur had felt the atmosphere turn the same way it had in the pub after that bloke had looked at him.

Panic kicking in, Arthur began to struggle. Why the hell did this keep happening to him!

Trying to distract himself, he made a mental note to ask Francis about it the moment they were reunited.

Feeling himself being pushed down on the bed, he at least managed to yell, "Alfred, take your brothers and get out, go find Francis!"

But the children didn't move, their eyes fixed on the strange scene of their usually bossy and aggressive master being pressed pitifully beneath someone. He looked so much weaker like that...

Fortunately, Francis was already on his way. The knife the woman had held was tightly gripped in his own.

Slipping it beneath the man's throat he spat, "are you going to let me pull you off him or do I have to take your head off?"

Closing his eyes tightly the man let Francis pull him away. Arthur felt the weight above him being removed.

"Now get out!" Francis threw him towards the door, after he was sure Matthew and Chelles had followed him into the room.

Nodding, the man shot away quickly; probably to find his mother.

"We're leaving now!" The Frenchman ordered, motioning the children to put on any clothes they had taken off to sleep in. He helped the still slightly stunned Brit to his feet.

Swallowing, Arthur managed to get a hold of himself, "we need to talk about this" he muttered,

"Later" Francis nodded, "we need to leave now, we can talk about it while we're walking."

However the children now they were fed and watered seemed to find their own voices on the next stretch of track.

"What was that guy doing to mummy?" Chelles asked, tugging on Francis' leg. She'd insisted on at least walking some of the way.

It was still dark, and none of them had any inkling to what the time was.

Francis frowned, exchanging a look with Arthur who was looking both embarrassed and shocked.

"N-Nothing" the Brit stammered before Francis could say anything, "It was nothing I couldn't handle."

Shaking his head Francis stopped walking, bending down to the children's smaller level, "you see, some nations have aromas around them that reflect their country. For example wherever I go, people's attention is drawn to me, because my country is naturally sociable. Arthur on the other hand..."

Francis glanced up at the Brit during his pause, smiling a little out of the corner of his mouth.

"What?" Alfred pressed.

"Well even you kids must have felt it" Francis continued, "just in a different way to that guy. The nation of England has always been desirable in many ways. It's not too hot, not too cold, perfect greenery, no natural disasters; and in many ways still full of childish innocence in its behaviour. This can cause different reactions, in the case of children when Arthur sparks this weird thing of his, they become protective like you might over a favourite toy, adults get other ideas..."

He got up again, looking Arthur firmly in the eye.

The English nation was speechless for a moment, then, "what are you basing this _theory_ on Frog?"

"What I've seen, and what I myself even sense from time to time. Being the country of love for me seems to cancel out most of what you give off."

"You make it sound like I stink of something" Arthur grumbled, sniffing his arm absent-mindedly.

The children were looking up at the two older nations now with wonder.

"Do you understand?" Francis spoke both to the children and Arthur.

"No, how come the other nations don't do anything to me?" The Brit pressed, looking ready to deny what Francis had said in anyway possible.

"Our wills are a little stronger than that" Francis smiled, but Arthur didn't miss the slight edge in his voice; his eyes darkened for a moment, then he pulled a wide smile, "come on, let's talk about something else; Matthew how's your French coming?"

Arthur zoned out of the conversation to think over what Francis had just said. Did he really make people think like that? He was sure he wasn't doing it all the time, maybe it only happened it situations where he was in pain or upset, like it had done before.

Francis had also been around him a lot, maybe that 'aroma', as he put it, really was distracting their attention from him and to Francis instead.

In that case had the French nation gone out of his way to ensure that he was almost always around him for that reason?

Arthur felt his cheeks heat up a little, and was grateful that Francis was deep in conversation with Alfred about the best places in the north where they could live.

Feeling ashamed of himself, Arthur shook his head, he felt like a silly girl who was flattered because some handsome man had risen to her defence.

Glancing sideways at the Frenchman's profile he began to ponder. Francis was quite handsome, of course he needed to shave; but Arthur had been telling him that ever since the stubble had first appeared on his chin.

A small rush went through him when the idea snuck into his mind that Francis might like him if he was protecting him like this...

...Now he really felt like a lovestruck girl.

He needed to think about something else to distract himself from such pathetic thoughts.

"I think it's starting to get light," he pointed up at the slowly brightening sky, "we'll see how many miles we can get done today."

The sooner they were settled in another house, the sooner Arthur could have his own room again, and spend most of the day not even knowing he was in the same house as the Frenchman.

He even offered to carry three of the children when they began to get tired of the quick pace.

Bruce was easy to carry because he just hung onto your neck like one of those small bear things from his country.

Alfred was more difficult because he often twitched in his sleep.

In the end Francis insisted that Arthur let him carry Alfred.

"Are you okay Arthur?" Francis asked, "you've been quiet for hours now, that's very unlike you."

Fighting against the blush that was trying to force its way back to his cheeks, the Brit stuck his nose in the air, "why bother talking when your the only one awake."

He squinted a little inside when he saw Francis' hurt expression.

They walked a little further in silence, until Arthur's guilt completely over took him. "I... Well, being the polite thing to do, I should probably... T-Thank you for h-helping me out of those situations I've found myself in over the last few days..." He hoped Francis would just mistake his burning cheeks for hurt of pride.

He didn't look at the French nation, but he was sure he was smiling. You could always tell when Francis was smiling, it made everything feel suddenly more optimistic and promising.

"Your welcome Arthur; and when we get north I can shut you away again and no one will find you," he pulled a face, when the Brit told him he sounded like an evil witch in a faery tale.

The laughter however died down when Arthur began to wonder, "where are we going to sleep tonight?"

"I hate to say it, but it'll probably be the road, unless we can find another empty looking barn. I'm not risking an Inn again."

That reminded Arthur of his thoughts earlier. "Francis..." It felt weird actually phrasing the question, not to mention horribly embarrassing. "...Why do you hang around me to stop... You know what happening?"

A small look of surprise passed over the Frenchman's face, "you mean you don't remember?"

"What?"

Whether he'd have got an answer or not, Francis attention was completely taken when Chelles in his arms suddenly burst into tears, waking up all the other children and causing a similar reaction from all of them except Kaoru who just looked slightly sadder than usual.

"I want to go home" Matthew cried, clinging to Francis' neck with both arms, "are we almost there?"

"No" Alfred choked, "We've still got miles till we're even in the northern area, it'll take weeks!"

This did not improve the situation, and soon everyone was looking even more ragged and beyond hope.

Then a small voice said, "look."


	4. Chapter 4

The group stopped wailing or panicking to look at the quietest child of the five.

Kaoru was pointing down the road, with a small smug smile on his face. Heading towards them, from the way they'd just come, was a wagon party, and they looked like they were heading north.

"Thank God!" Arthur whisked his sometimes least acknowledged colony into the air in praise, "if we sit in one of the empty carriages it'll be fine right?" He turned to Francis for approval, not wanting a repeat of what happened at the hotel.

"Just keep your eyes on the ground and stand back when I ask" Francis told him firmly, pressing Arthur's chest with his palm, as if to physically push him away from the road.

Feeling a little stupid and pathetic, he did as he was told, as Francis called over one of the empty looking carriages, motioning to Alfred to hand him some money.

He turned back to Arthur and the other's, grinning.

With a whoop of joy, the children charged into the back of the carriage, while Francis and Arthur followed them in.

"Don't damage any of the man's cargo" Arthur warned, trying to get Alfred to sit down.

Why was it they found so much energy when they weren't walking?

"This is better" Francis grinned, lying back against one of the free walls of the wagon, sitting Chelles on his lap, "we'll be there in no time now, and Alfred can lead us to a big enough house.

The Brit sat down next to him, maybe a little closer than he usually would have done. If Francis noticed it, he didn't say anything.

It didn't take long though before everyone had dropped off into the first decent sleep they'd had in a few nights.

Apart from Alfred needing to pee off the back of the wagon during mid-afternoon, there were no disturbances.

So the whole group slept until late the next morning, feeling thoroughly refreshed if a little hungry and thirsty.

However, they didn't want to take anything from the wagon they were in, and there wasn't anywhere else to get food, so Francis told them they should wait, and make it all the worthwhile when they reached a new house, and he cooked up the best meal he'd ever made.

Considering all Francis' meals tasted like that, it did distract them with the idea of what Francis' idea of perfect food was.

They passed through the second night slightly less well.

Arthur was woken by a small unfamiliar sound.

Struggling to find the source; he eventually located it from the other nation curled up beside him.

Francis' expression was clearly troubled; his forehead tense, and teeth biting on his lower lip. A nightmare?

Francis made the same pitiful murmur, turning his head and frowning.

Slowly lowering his hand, Arthur stroked the stray strands of hair from the Frenchman's face. He couldn't help but smile a little when Francis bent against his touch, calming down almost immediately.

"Silly Frog" he whispered affectionately (though he denied it of himself later). He wondered what the other nation had nightmares of. Probably a bad hair day, or food problems.

When he was sure Francis was calm, he lay down again next to the man, closing his eyes again.

The next morning Francis blinked his eyes awake, sitting up and locating the tugging on his leg from Alfred. "What is it?" He yawned, "please don't tell me you need to pee again..."

"No!" Alfred crossed his arms, looking embarrassed, "I want to know why your lying so close to Arthur, Chelles is being all stupid about it!"

"No I'm not!" The girl protested, "I think it's romantic."

Francis who didn't have any idea what they were talking about, glanced back down at Arthur who was still sleeping soundly, his warm body still curled slightly against his hip.

"Sorry Chelles, it wasn't me, and mummy doesn't do romantic," Francis tried to hide the sadness in his tone.

Arthur seemed to stir at the word 'mummy'.

"I knew you were responsible for her calling me that" he murmured, rubbing his eyes, before glancing at the position he was in. He'd almost completely forgotten last night; but as the events began to replay in his head, his cheeks flushed a deeper red.

He had to fix this now.

"You perverted Frog, what were you doing, molesting me in my sleep!" He demanded, scooting away from the Frenchman immediately, and narrowing his eyes.

"What! I had nothing to do with this" Francis snapped, "you must have rolled over in your sleep!"

"Why couldn't you have rolled over in your sleep!" The Brit pressed,

"Because I'm used to lying next to people, so I don't roll!"

That struck a cord, because a cold silence followed.

Arthur wasn't sure what upset him more; the insult, or that Francis had been sleeping next to other people, in presumably the recent past.

"Are you telling me you've been bringing your 'friends' back to our house with the kids around!" He yelled, probably loud enough for all the drivers to hear.

"Non, non," Francis held up his hands, "only when I went on 'important trips' back to Paris for a few days." He pulled a face like this was a reasonable explanation.

"You fucking, Frog stinking, son of a Bitch, self-satisfied Bastard!"

The children (apart from Alfred) all covered their ears the moment Arthur said 'fucking'.

Francis' face was a picture of shock, while Arthur was still huffing and muttering under his breath looking furious.

"How could you sneak off to do something like that, you whore!" His temper was quickly spiralling out of his control, looking ready to kick or break something any minuet.

"England!" Francis spoke sharply, indicating for the kids to uncover their ears, and frowning at Alfred who had not covered them.

The bad tempered Brit froze, beginning to process what he'd just said in front of the kids.

"Papa what does whore mean?" Alfred asked curiously.

Francis glared at Arthur before muttering to the kids what the word meant. They all began to giggle, apart from Chelles who looked horrified.

"Can't you control your stupid temper!" Francis demanded, grabbing Arthur's collar with his fist, "insult me if you like, but don't talk like that in front of the kids. I don't understand why your getting so angry anyway!"

He let go of the Englishman, sitting down again to comfort the children, that always got upset when the two of them argued.

Slumping down to the floor, Arthur felt completely isolated again. They did prefer Francis, Arthur knew it, he was just kidding himself to think otherwise; and Francis preferred other company to his, though was that surprising? Seeing as Arthur treated him like this.

Hiding his face in his hands, Arthur cursed softly to himself.

He hated being so close to everyone. This was why he liked his island.

"How far away are we now Alfred?" Francis asked, shaking his head disparagingly at the still sulking Brit.

"I'd say about a week" Alfred mumbled, not looking too happy about it, "when we get there, can we get new toys?"

"I want new dolls" Chelles piped up, "with new dresses and a little wardrobe,"

"I want a snake!" Bruce exclaimed excitedly, "or a toy one, if that's all they've got."

The week passed slowly.

Neither Francis or Arthur managed to regain speaking terms, in fact the Brit had shut down almost completely, only muttering inaudible conversations to his invisible friends.

"Is dad okay?" Matthew asked worriedly as the week was coming to a close, he'd been glancing over at Arthur a lot more than the others (Barring Francis, who just didn't let anyone see him).

"He'll be fine once we find a house, and he can return to his half of it where none of us can bother him." He was clearly trying to provoke a reaction, but he didn't get one. Sighing, he turned to Alfred, who'd begun to look more excited since he woke up this morning.

"I think we'll be into the north tommorow, and I'm wondering round in my head for a house, and I think I've found a nice one near a town that should suit us" Alfred beamed proudly.

Francis hugged, and kissed the boy's forehead, while Matthew hugged him tightly, earning a faint blush from the American child's cheeks.

All innocent, Francis assured himself, but it was amusing. He wondered how Arthur would react if he saw it.

The Brit had obviously heard what Alfred had said, because for the first time in days, he glanced over at them for a moment, before returning to his ramblings.

That night when the children had dropped off to sleep, Francis crept a little closer to Arthur; determined to make peace before they arrived. It had been a trying time for all of them, so Francis couldn't blame Arthur for losing his temper like that.

"Come on, cheer up you silly Brit" he whispered good naturedly, "stop talking to your faeries and rejoin the family."

Arthur muttered something, looking upset.

"What did throw you into this temper anyhow?" Francis was struggling to remember the exact words he'd said to cause Arthur to sulk for almost a full week.

The smaller blond, tugged his knees up to his chest and hid his face in them, still refusing to talk.

Slowly, Francis began to stroke Arthur's blond bird's nest, doing his best to smooth the tangles.

"Why do you do this to me?" The Englishman spoke his first proper words in days, but still didn't list his face from his knees.

"Do what?" Confused, Francis pulled his hand back, wondering if that was what Arthur meant; but surely he was used to the Frenchman's flirting and petting by now.

"Pretend you care, then bugger off to Paris with some good looking person," Francis could hear the words catching in Arthur's throat, he was clearly struggling to say them, and if he had been in his normal state of mind, he wouldn't have said them at all.

"I do care Arthur" Francis insisted, returning his hand to the other man's hair, "the kids are important to me too..."

"That's not what I meant," Arthur's words were so quiet that Francis almost missed them; he half wanted to ask the Brit to say them again, just so he could be sure of what he'd heard.

"Then what did you mean?" Lowering his hand from the hair, he placed a firm hand against Arthur's hidden cheek, forcing the island nation's face into view.

"I didn't mean anything Frog" Arthur mumbled, "your just letting your perverse imagination run away with you."

Giving a small chuckle, Francis pressed their foreheads together for a moment, "maybe I am," he then touched his lips gently to Arthur's before moving back to the other half of the carriage, leaving the Brit stunned.

Trying to regain his sulk, Arthur turned away, but his heart was already beating madly in his chest. He couldn't understand what Francis was thinking most of the time; one moment Francis was away in Paris sleeping with multiple partners, the next Francis was here, snapping at anyone who so much as looked at him.

How was he supposed to know what Francis thought of him if he kept sending these mixed messages?

Hiding his face again and blushing, Arthur tried to convince himself that it didn't bother him either way. But he also knew he felt jealous at the idea of Francis getting enjoyment out of other people, his eyes watching them, and calculating their beauty.

"Perverted whore" he growled to himself; though this time he was sure to say it so Francis wouldn't hear.

Francis meanwhile was thinking over Arthur's personality.

Arthur was a confusing person, first he hated you and wouldn't speak to you for a week; then he was practically telling you he was jealous when you wanted other people.

He made a note to obey the stuck up Brit for a day, if he made sense for at least two minuets. He was like an adolescent teen with too many mood swings.

Okay, physically they both still looked quite young. Arthur maybe seventeen, while Francis was sure he looked almost twenty. Though they must look incredibly young to be wondering around with children that looked almost ten.

"Bon nuit Arthur" he smiled, lying down next to the children,

"Night Frog" came the muffled reply.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's note: From the next chapter this story will be moved up to M rating. This doesn't mean any thing's going to happen in the next chapter, but I should raise it for future references.**_

Alfred almost threw himself off the back of the wagon at about midday, the next day. Of course this meant that all the other children tried to do the same.

Francis dumped them on Arthur, who was slowly returning to his senses, while he signalled to their driver that they were ready to get off.

When the wagon stopped, Francis took Alfred with him to pay the man the other half of what he'd been promised for carrying them north.

Arthur stayed behind with the other children, pleased to be back in one-hundred percent British colony area. He picked up Chelles, putting her on his shoulders; almost forgetting how slighted he felt when they seemed to prefer Francis.

"Okay Alfred, where's this place you were talking about?" Francis asked, wondering where they should begin heading, and how long would it take.

"Not far, only a few miles" the American boy grinned, already charging ahead to show them the way.

"When we get there can we eat a huge something" Bruce asked, demonstrating the size with his hands, "I'm starving!"

Francis laughed, ruffling the boy's already messy hair, "what do you think Matthew?"

Surprised at being asked, Matthew blushed uncomfortably, "any thing's fine with me, and long as it isn't overcooked,"

"That's my boy" Francis beamed proudly, throwing a small smirk in Arthur's direction.

The Brit pulled a stiff upper lip back, before returning to his conversation with Chelles over what clothes she wanted for her new doll.

Francis had agreed that once the house was bought, he'd go into the town and find some ingredients, and while he was there he'd see if they're were any good toy shops.

Apart from Matthew's white bear, all their old toys had been burnt in the fire.

The Frenchman knew that even if Arthur wasn't showing it, he was incredibly upset about losing all his books; he'd been very proud of all his first additions, and out of print stories.

Francis had lost a few of his own books and clothes, but he didn't keep too much of his stuff in America because he didn't see it as the permanent home that Arthur did.

After about an hour of walking Alfred stopped on a small grassy hill, pointing ahead of him at a recently built large manor. It was perfect.

The owner was milling around, examining the workmanship.

"Excuse me sir" Francis called to him, pulling Arthur with him, obviously seeing that this man wouldn't be a threat to him.

The gentleman was resting in his mid-fifties, with a comfortable figure, and thick grey hair; but he also had a cheery demeanour.

"Can I do something for you gentleman?" The man gave them a quick look up and down. The long journey showed through their dirty clothes and faces.

"We'd like to buy this house," Arthur cut straight to the point, "how much do you want for it?"

Shaking his head, slightly baffled, the owner told them he had no wish to sell his new house.

"How much did it cost to build?" Francis pressed, still keeping a cheerful smile, "we'll pay you double."

The gentleman had soon packed out and was merrily waving goodbye to them from his carriage.

Things began to move very quickly from that moment on.

Francis left for the town, while Arthur was left to wash the children, then himself. Francis always looked fresh, so he could wait till he got back before bathing.

Alfred and Matthew never minded sharing a bath, so they were easy enough once Alfred was actually in the tub to stay.

Kaoru and Bruce insisted on being washed alone, and Chelles it was only decent to let her have a bath to herself.

Arthur often worried what he and Francis were going to do when Chelles grew into a proper young woman. They couldn't hire a maid for her, because of the slow ageing problem, and she was the only female.

Francis suggested that she could just wash and clean herself like the boys would do, but to the Brit it was out of the question. Women should have servants to wait on them when dressing or washing.

After the children were washed and sent off to argue over the choice of bedrooms, Arthur undressed, running fresh water in the tub, before slipping in himself. Enjoying the feeling of the dust and mud washing off his skin.

Now this trial was over, they could all return to their old routine. He'd only see the kids at meal times and academic lessons, and he'd hardly have to see Francis at all.

He knew he should be pleased about this, but he'd grown used to the children, and Francis over their long trip; and he couldn't forget that he was the one responsible for the eviction from their old home.

Sinking a little deeper in the warm water, Arthur brought his hand to his mouth. Had Francis really kissed him last night?

It was all a bit of a blur.

He was blushing again. This was all that stupid Frog's fault.

Jumping, he heard the front door opening, then the sound of the said idiot humming cheerfully to himself.

Sinking so low that he was almost completely submerged by water Arthur let out a huff, why did Francis have to be perfect in so many ways?

Deciding he was clean enough, Arthur pulled himself out of the water, wrapping the towel round his waist, wondering what to do about his dirty clothes.

"Arthur are you still in there?" Francis knocked on the door, making the Brit's face light up again.

"O-Of course I am pervert, but I locked the door!" He snapped back, probably jumping to too many conclusions, and being too harsh.

Francis however didn't take it to heart, "I bought everyone new clothes while I was there, I've given the kids their clothes to change into, shall I pass yours through the door?"

Sighing, Arthur undid the bolt, holding the towel firmly with one hand and holding out the other through a crack in the door.

He almost pulled it back when Francis took it and gave his knuckle a quick peck before shoving the new clothes into them.

So much for his old shirt and trousers. Francis seemed to think everyone should dress stylishly.

He'd bought Arthur a rather tight fitting waistcoat and white shirt, with trousers possibly a little closer fitting than he was used too.

When he was dressed he pushed through the door, glaring at Francis on the way past, to show his displeasure at the choice of clothes.

The Frenchman blinked at him for a moment in astonishment, bringing his hand up to stroke Arthur's cheek, with a faint smile. "I knew they'd suit you, don't leave the house in those clothes," with that he'd vanished into the bathroom.

The children were all dressed smartly when Arthur found them playing in the sitting room.

Alfred was dressed in a strange combination of clothes, that actually quite suited him, making him look a little older and slimmer. A cowboy hat and sheriff's uniform.

Matthew in a blue shirt and brown trousers, much more practical for playing in than Alfred's old hand-me-downs.

Where Francis had managed to find Bruce and Kaoru's clothes Arthur wasn't sure. Bruce had a weird hat that Arthur had often seen in Australia to ward off the flies, with a loose dark shirt and trousers to match.

Kaoru had what could only be described as expensive. A bright silk shirt, and fine white trousers.

Chelles bounded forwards to meet him in her new blue dress with two red ribbons in her hair. "Mummy looks so pretty" she beamed, hugging him round the waist.

The waist?

He took a closer look at the children. They didn't just look older, they were older. Fast approaching between ten and thirteen; he wondered whether Francis had noticed yet.

He must have done, if he'd bought them new fitting clothes.

"What's Francis bought for dinner?" Arthur patted her head awkwardly, realising he must have given her a bath earlier without noticing her _developments_.

"Papa said it was a surprise" Matthew shrugged, examining himself in a mirror, looking please with his appearance.

Arthur noticed Alfred paying close attention to the other boy's appearance as well. He shook his head, fighting back a laugh, they were definitely growing up.

When Francis returned, he was comfortably dressed in his normal looking attire.

"I'll go and make dinner" he smiled, "you guys keep Arthur occupied so he doesn't wonder into the kitchen and ruin something," with a graceful sweep and a smirk, Francis left the room, with Arthur scowling after him.

Bruce had managed to find a book on the floor in the hallways, so Arthur was reading to them from it. It wasn't a particularly childish book, but it was a story that could keep them entertained.

With their age, the children had certainly matured both physically and maturely. Where they'd previously let romances in books slip over their heads, they now questioned the character's actions.

Chelles and Matthew even blushed at some of the more intermediate scenes. Even though they were usually considered Francis' children, they often behaved a lot more like Arthur himself when it came to romance, whereas Bruce and Alfred were more like Francis with their forward ways.

Kaoru wasn't Arthur's originally, so he just stayed quiet like China might have done.

He was half way through the book when Francis called them through for dinner.

Seven steaks were placed carefully round the table. This may not sound like a luxury, but Francis made the best steaks, and they hardly ever got them because he was reluctant to cook them the way Alfred and Bruce wanted them.

Francis usually considered that overcooking a steak was destroying it, but that's the way that Alfred and Bruce liked it. Kaoru and Chelles had medium rare, while the other three enjoyed their steaks rare.

It had taken years for Francis to get Arthur to admit he liked his steaks rare in the French style rather than in the usual British well done way.

"Thank you papa!" Matthew rushed forwards, hugging Francis before taking his place. Chelles also thanked him, whereas Arthur's lot had already begun eating.

"Wait till everyone else is sitting down!" The Brit scolded, unconsciously lifting his own fork at the ready.

"It's fine, we're all hungry, dig in" Francis welcomed, taking his own seat at the head of the table opposite Arthur's.

At the end of the meal all the plates were licked clean, before being replaced with fresh ones with delightful slices of cake, with a small sprinkling of sugar on top.

"So have you kids chosen bedrooms?" Francis asked towards the end of the meal, previously everyone had been too ravenous to talk.

"Yes papa" Chelles nodded, "but it's a funny house, there aren't as many bedrooms, the boy's are splitting two rooms between the four of them, and I've agreed to have the smaller room..." She trailed off, glancing at Matthew as if encouraging him to continue.

"...Me and Alfred are sharing, and so are Kaoru and Bruce... But..." He in turn looked at Alfred, who was trying to hide his amused look.

"There's only one other bedroom" he told them, "with one grand bed."

Arthur's fork fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

"No!" He protested, the moment he had regained himself, "absolutely not, he can sleep on the floor!"

"I'm not sleeping on the floor!" Francis shrugged, holding back his grin, "why don't you, I don't mind sharing."

Arthur's blush started in his ears and spread all the way around his face, "I'm sure you don't!"

Francis shook his hand to dismiss the conversation, "we'll sort this out when we've put the kids to bed."

Everyone was pretty much ready to drop after their stomachs were full, so the kids were easier to get off to bed than usual.

It became clear that they'd have to buy more beds tomorrow as well as toys. Alfred and Matthew were sharing a small bed, while Kaoru slept in the one in his and Bruce's room, and the Australian curled up on the rug.

Francis tucked Chelles in, before pushing into the only other room, where Arthur was waiting with his arms crossed, and a stubborn look on his face.

"We can get one of the other rooms converted at some point" Francis offered, "but until then we'll have to share, I'll sleep as far away from you as possible if that's what you want,"

"Of course it's what I want!" Came the heated reply.

Shaking his head, Francis pulled off his shirt hanging it on the back of the chair near the bed.

"What are you doing!" Arthur seized the shirt in a single bound, looking ready to throw it back over his head.

"You don't expect me to sleep with my clothes on do you," The Frenchman looked annoyed, pushing the shirt away from him.

"At least keep your trousers on," The Brit was close to begging, so Francis agreed, before kicking his socks and shoes off, and climbing into the bed.

Arthur studied his own clothes, "where's my old shirt?" He asked,

"I washed it, it's all wet," Francis propped himself up on his elbow to watch Arthur with fascination; was the Englishman so picky that he wouldn't even sleep without being fully dressed.

"B-But I can't wear this..." The Brit pulled at his new shirt, then his eyes flashed to Francis' shirt, then dropped to the floor. "Give me your shirt."

"Qu'est-ce?" Francis stopped, was Arthur serious?

Clearly the Brit was not waiting for an answer, because he swept the white shirt off the chair and marched off to the joining bathroom to put it on.

Hang it, Francis thought; if Arthur looked good in his shirt he could have it.

There was a pause of five minuets while Francis eagerly awaited Arthur's return.

When the Brit did return his heart clenched and he shot out of the bed with the retreating speed of Italy. He couldn't sleep next to Arthur when he looked like that.

The shirt was far too big for him, the neck line hanging on his shoulders, and the sleeves hanging loose and baggy.

"What's wrong?" Arthur slipped quickly under the covers, pulling them up to his neck and flushing, "I can't sleep while your standing like that."

Francis bit his lip. Even if he didn't seem to be effected by Arthur like most were, this was a challenge. He was the country of love and was completely in charge of who he was attracted to, but it also meant that when he was attracted he usually got what he wanted.

He couldn't do that to Arthur, it would completely break the vow he'd made as a child.

"Maybe I should sleep on the floor" he murmured, backing away.

"No" Arthur spoke firmly, "you've talked me into this, now your not talking your way out."

So slowly, steadily, Francis got back into the bed, trying not to look at the Brit.

Arthur turned his head away, and soon was breathing softly, Francis did the same, willing himself into sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Stretching, Francis felt his hand brush against something.

Forcing himself awake, he adjusted to the light shining through the bedroom window. Despite their previous promise of last night to sleep facing away from each other at opposite sides of the bed.

Somehow they had both moved closer towards the centre, and had turned over during the night.

His hand had brushed Arthur's arm.

The top buttons of his new shirt, that Arthur had claimed as a nightshirt, had slipped loose during the night, revealing a nice proportion of the Brit's pale chest.

Everything was rolling back into place in Francis' memory. They had finally arrived at their new home; and he'd promised to take the kids bed and toy shopping.

Hesitantly and slowly he slipped out of the bed, checking the clock on the wall. It was coming up to nine in the morning; it was odd the kids weren't up yet.

"They must be tired" he smiled to himself, wondering through to the kitchen, to begin preparing breakfast.

By the time Arthur, and slowly the rest of the family began to trudge through, the kitchen was alive with the smell of cooking.

Matthew's expert nose told them it was crepes, bringing everyone eagerly to life, and to the table with expectant and excited faces.

"Are you coming with us dad?" Matthew asked hopefully, adjusting himself in his seat next to Alfred, "If papa is with us, it's okay for you to come, right?"

The Brit felt a little annoyed at this comment. He still didn't like the idea that Francis needed to protect him constantly from the attention he unconsciously seemed to attract.

But he forced himself to be reasonable, "we'll just have to wait and see what Francis thinks" he replied, hoping breakfast would arrive soon.

He wanted to go out with them; the idea of hiding away in the house or its lands constantly was a depressing one, it would be nice to get out every now and then.

"I see you've all arrived for your breakfast" Francis smirked, bursting from the kitchen with warm plates in his arms, placing the first set down in front of Matthew, Alfred, and Chelles. He returned a few seconds later with the rest of the plates.

"What about sugar?" Matthew asked, staring at his plane crepe with disappointment.

"Give me a minuet," the Frenchman stroked the boy's hair.

When all the right things were out on the table they could all enjoy the chaotic breakfast together.

Matthew rephrased his question to Francis, about whether Arthur could come with them.

Francis narrowed his eyes, "maybe it's not the best of ideas..."

"You can't keep me locked up here all the time," The Brit hated having to beg, but he did really want to see some sign of civilisation after being away from it so long, "I'll stay with you, I promise."

Francis clearly knew how much this was damaging the stubborn Brit's pride, because he sighed and nodded.

"Why are you wearing his shirt?" Alfred butted in, his mouth full of sugar covered crepe, pointing from Francis to Arthur.

The Englishman blushed, one hand closing around the shirt to pull it up a little further to cover his shoulders. "I needed something to wear, and the Frog washed my other shirt."

Francis watched Arthur's face carefully. Come to think of it, Arthur was blushing around him a lot more than usual... Was he ill?

After breakfast, everyone vanished quickly to their own rooms to change.

"Where are you going with those?" Francis pulled the Englishman back quickly,

"I'm not changing with you, I'm going to the bathroom."

Shaking his head, Francis produced the clean shirt that he'd washed last night. It still looked worn from the journey, and (dare he admit it) not as nice as the new clothes Francis had bought him.

"You are not going out in those clothes I bought you, people would be all over you in seconds," he swapped the new clothes for the old ones; "if you're going out, you wear these."

Fighting back his argument, Arthur accepted, going into the bathroom and changing into his old clothes. Why had Francis bought him new ones, if he couldn't go out in them?

That was when the thought snuck into his head; did Francis just want to see him in something tight fitting?

Arthur gave a small yelp the moment he thought it, that thankfully went ignored from the man changing in the main room. Somehow, the idea didn't displease him as much as he thought it would; the idea of Francis checking him out made him feel quite proud actually, and very please with himself.

Though that also annoyed him, how could he accept that from the Frog of all people. Did he want that perverted Frenchman to want to touch him...

All the blood he had ran to his cheeks. Oh God he did.

He wanted to feel Francis' fingers running along his chest, feel his mouth on his neck, his hand touching him... Now he wanted to die; surely that would be better than living with these desires.

"Arthur I'm done," Francis knocked on the door, "I can hear Alfred charging around in the halls, we shouldn't keep such excited children ready."

"I'm coming!" In his haste Arthur threw open the door, walking straight into the waiting Frenchman without looking where he was going.

"What's the matter with you?" Francis laughed, pressing the back of his hand to Arthur's forehead, "do you have a fever?"

"No!" Pushing him away quickly, Arthur shot passed him into the hall, and began scolding Alfred with so much heart that Francis' fears were confirmed; there was something wrong with him.

The toy shop wasn't too far into the town.

"You kids run around and find what you want" Francis patted their heads in turn, "please don't choose too much, we're trying to keep a low profile remember, me and Arthur will stay with Chelles."

All charge off in different directions and were gone in seconds.

Chelles hurried over to the dolls, examining each one in turn; Arthur and Francis completely forgotten.

"I know something's bothering you" Francis murmured, keeping his voice low to avoid the ears around the busy shop, "what's wrong?"

"N-Nothing," Arthur's eyes dropped to his feet, he hoped he wasn't blushing again.

Of course Francis would accept his feelings, but for how long? And how seriously would he take them? Francis had a long string of lovers; he believed in giving love to anyone that wanted it. Arthur didn't just want to become another one of the many.

Their conversation was cut off when Alfred pulled a toy from the bottom of a pile sending them all crashing down on him and Matthew.

"Go help Chelles, I'll be back in a moment" Francis sighed, hurrying over to help dig the boys out, and apologise to the owner.

"Found anything you like?" Arthur asked kindly, lifting, the still light girl up for a better look, "you can pick some dresses too if you like."

He'd watched Chelles playing with her dolls for years now, and he'd grown to enjoy it. Her games were so much more innocent than the ones Bruce and Alfred dragged the other boys into.

"I love her!" Chelles suddenly exclaimed with delight, pulling a box off the top shelf to show Arthur.

The doll was reasonably plain with dark hair, tied back in a single red ribbon. She already had a dandelion coloured dress on.

She rushed over to the accessories on the next shelf to find some other clothes for her doll to change into.

Smiling cheerfully, Arthur followed her.

"Nice day we're having isn't it?" Someone tapped him on the shoulder with a smile, "my name is Smith."

"Arthur," the man didn't seem too unfriendly, besides, Arthur knew he wasn't alone here. Even having little Chelles a few meters away reassured him.

"So who's that over there?" He nodded towards Francis who was scolding Alfred and making him clean up the mess he'd made. Smith smirked, "don't worry, we're a lot more accepting in the north as long as you keep your head down, or don't upset anyone."

Biting his lip and urging the blush away, Arthur protested, "we're just living together to take care of our kids, it's easier with two rather than one," he racked his brain for a story, "you see, our wives died a while ago, and we were friends so stuck together to raise the children."

Smith shrugged disbelievingly, "you look very young to be the father of any of the children you were with."

Arthur could feel a change in the air he didn't like.

"I should help Chelles find a dress for her doll..." He took a step back.

"What's wrong?" Chelles appeared by his arm, looking at Smith with worry. Arthur was grateful she hadn't called him 'mummy'; that would have been hard to explain. "Should I go and get papa?"

Smith smiled at her, "don't worry, we were just having an adult conversation," he began to stretch out his hand towards the side of Arthur's face.

A sharp slap threw it back.

Francis was suddenly standing beside them, a calm, but cool look on his face.

"Making friends I see," the Frenchman nodded at Smith, masking his anger with a smile, "I hope Arthur hasn't been too rude to you?"

"Not at all," Smith was clearly annoyed at the interruption, but he too masked his anger with a friendly gesture.

"We must be going" Francis excused, dragging the Brit by his arm towards Chelles, "the kids have probably finished choosing by now."

When they were a clear distance from Smith, Francis let out a sigh of relief.

"I think we should leave now" he muttered, "I'll take you guys back, then go with Alfred to buy new beds."

Thankfully it seemed like everyone had agreed on what they wanted, so they were free to pay and go.

Once they were safely returned to the house, Francis and Alfred headed back into town for the last supplies they needed.

"Was that a nasty man like that guy in the place we stopped at?" Bruce asked, pausing from waving his wooden toy snake, "Papa didn't like him anyway."

Matthew nodded, "I didn't like the look of him. He had two nasty children with him as well that tried to push Alfred over in the shop."

Sighing, Arthur shook his head, "I'm fine, and your all fine, we're safe here."

Satisfied the kids hurried back to their rooms with their new toys, and to plan where the new beds should go.

Arthur knew it was too much to hope for another bedroom by tonight, but he'd pester Francis about it the next morning.

He decided to explore the house now he had some time to himself.

At the back he managed to find a small library, with a few books stacked on the shelves. He supposed it was at least a start, so pulled down one of the books and began to read.

That was how Francis found him.

Sitting in the largest chair, with his feet curled up underneath him, reading a children's story.

"What have you got there?" He slipped onto the chair next to the other, glancing at the well-worn pages, "read to me."

"You can't just come back and begin demanding things!" Arthur snapped, horrified to feel his body leaning in against Francis'.

Francis pulled a face, "please, otherwise I won't cook dinner."

Knowing Francis could be serious about things like that, he sighed, giving in against his body's comfort, and began to read aloud.

He stammered a little when Francis rested his head on his, and trembled over a line or two when the Frenchman's hands weaved around him gently.

The clock chimed out five bells, after what felt like very little time at all.

Francis stretched and got to his feet, "thank you cher, I'll go and start dinner."

It took Arthur the time it took the Frenchman to leave the room before he realised what Francis had just called him. 'Cher'?

Putting the book down quickly, Arthur curled up into a ball on the chair.

Why was Francis doing this to him? Did he already know Arthur liked him, so he was playing with his feelings?

That could be the only thing that made sense right?

Dinner two hours later, Arthur said nothing.

He hoped no one would notice because Alfred was talking so much, and thankfully no one mentioned it.

At least not until he and Francis got back to the room they were _temporarily _sharing.

"I shouldn't have said that" Francis apologised quickly, knowing exactly what the Brit had been thinking about all through the meal, "it just slipped out."

"I know that!" Arthur snapped quickly, "I-I was just thinking about that book I was reading."

Francis didn't look like he believed him, but let the subject drop.

"Let's just get some sleep, we should probably start lessons tommorow, we can't let the kids get too out of sink," Francis pulled off a clean shirt he'd bought while in town. He planned to go back with Alfred tommorow for enough for everybody. He really didn't want to have to sleep in his trousers tonight, it was really uncomfortable.

Arthur meanwhile had grabbed the shirt from last night and vanished back into the bathroom.

Moving quickly, Francis kicked his trousers off, hiding them in the cupboard and diving under the covers so Arthur wouldn't notice.

He was still wearing boxers, that made it alright, didn't it...

Arthur returned, dressed in the same fashion as last night, and took one look at him. "You've taken your trousers off haven't you."

How the hell had he known that! ?

"It's too uncomfortable, you can wear trousers if you want but I don't want to do it too!" He whined, "I'm wearing boxers, so it's not like I'm naked."

"You didn't need to go into that much detail!" Arthur howled, covering his face with his hands, "learn some sort of control over what you say!"

Sitting up, and looking the Brit up and down, Francis came to the conclusion, "you can't be that comfortable in trousers either; I won't molest you, if that's what you're worried about..."

"Again, you don't know what is and isn't appropriate to say!" The Brit looked next to despair, and felt like his head was about to explode.

Francis was right, he was uncomfortable, but no nearly as uncomfortable at the idea of sleeping without them next to the Frenchman.

He thought it over in his head, sizing up the shirt he was wearing.

It was too long for him, so the material came down to just above his mid-thigh, maybe it would be okay.

"D-Don't look" he stammered, not beginning to undress until Francis had turned his back.

Slipping quickly into bed, Arthur held the blankets tightly around him.

"That wasn't so bad was it" Francis laughed, the silly Brit was so funny with his peculiar quirks. Most Europeans were perfectly happy sleeping with little clothing on; Arthur had always been different.

Arthur gave a muffled reply, turning his face away.

"Why are you still wearing my shirt, can't you wear the old one you wore today?" He ran out a hand to tug at the white material.

The Brit swatted him away, sitting up quickly, cheeks flaming red.

"I-I'm not..." He twiddled his fingers, "...I mean... I-It's just more comfortable, you always keep the most comfortable things for yourself..."

"Oh..." Francis nodded slowly, pondering Arthur's coloured face. Was he angry? Or was he blushing?

The idea of Arthur blushing, made his own cheeks begin to heat up.

He struggled for a distraction; settling on pulling the blanket towards him, "your using up too much, give me some!"

"Hey!" The Brit tugged back, pulling even more blanket his way, "you don't mind being on show, I do, therefore I should get more!"

"But your wearing more! I'll catch my death of cold!" Francis pulled in back to his side.

The tugging got more violent and the insults got worse, until they were hissing at each other as loud as they dared without waking the children.

Until with a final pull Francis fell off the side of the bed with the blanket, hitting his head on the floor.

"Oh shit, are you okay? You shouldn't have fallen you stupid Frog," Arthur peered over the side of the bed, laughing at the sight of the usually dignified Frenchman tangled in the sheets.

"Don't laugh at me stupide!" Francis trembled with embarrassment- an unfamiliar feeling for him. He untangled himself, getting back into bed and pulling the blanket after him.

He was about the throw it over them again, when the sight of the Brit sitting on the bed made him drop the blanket again.

All that seemed to be covering Arthur's lithe form was the shirt that just balanced on his thighs, in an almost teasing way.

Realising what Francis was looking at, Arthur blushed, tugging the shirt down to cover himself more.

"S-Stop staring at me bastard!" He shouted, "pull the blanket back up!"

But Francis seemed frozen, his eyes still glued to the other nation's body.

"You pervert" Arthur sighed, moving over to pull the blanket up himself. Trying to move quickly because the shirt was lifting up a little as he moved, giving Francis a small glance at his red boxers.

Tossing the blanket back over the two of them, Arthur readjusted, hoping Francis hadn't seen too much.

"Your useless" The Brit smirked, flicking Francis' nose; this seemed to snap him back to his senses.

"It's your fault for looking to cute Angleterre," Francis reached out a finger to brush under the Englishman's chin.

Tensing Arthur began to mentally prepare himself to push Francis away, but the Frenchman lay back down again and was soon asleep.

Wasn't this France? The nation that slept with anything that moved, be it male or female?

Yet here he was, sleeping in the same bed as said pervert, with nothing but his boxers and a thin shirt on, and Francis had barely touched him.

He hated that Frog so much sometimes.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's note: I wanted to a chapter from the kid's point of view. I thought it might make an amusing change. This chapter has hints of UsCan, if you're familiar with my stories you probably saw this coming.**_

Alfred sat at the kitchen table with his arms crossed, while Matthew tried to talk him into working.

Arthur and Francis had surprised them all that morning with the return of lessons, and because this house had no school room, they were making do with the kitchen table for now.

Even though the Brit had never hit them, he still liked to walk around with a stick while he was talking, and point at them with it. He seemed to feel it was a necessity of discipline.

Alfred hated this sort of work, and Arthur never seemed to encourage them in anything. If it wasn't for Francis Alfred would never have found out he could play the piano so well. The Englishman on the other hand just seemed to convince him of how bad he was at everything else.

"Can you at least tell me where London is?" Arthur had his hands down on the table in front of him, looking exasperated.

"Canada" Alfred shrugged, he didn't really care; though he saw Matthew blush and look impressed. Was there a London in Canada?

He felt his chest puffing up with pride, he didn't care whether Arthur said he'd given the wrong London, if Matthew liked his answer, then Alfred was happy with it.

"Angleterre I do believe it's my turn," thank God Francis was here to save them. Arthur was breathing heavily, looking like he was ready to burst a blood vessel.

The kids leapt quickly to their feet, forgetting most of the stuff still at the table, and sped into the music room.

Alfred knew that Chelles and Matthew always felt bad about hurrying away to Francis' lessons after Arthur's. So they were always sure to thank him for the lesson as they passed.

Time always seemed to pass by more quickly in Francis' lessons, and soon the end of lessons was fast approaching; that meant they could go out and play.

He and Bruce were keen to explore their new surroundings, and see if there were any fun places to play.

But just as they were about to leave, Francis stopped them.

"I just want to tell you something now you're physically older," he tapped Chelles' head moving her gently towards him. "Even if your not blood related like most siblings, Chelles is your sister, and it is a brother's job to protect his sister. So when your out playing I want you to always have her safety as your first priority," he looked at Alfred particularly hard when he said this.

Pouting, Alfred nodded. Did nobody trust him with anything?

"They're good brothers" Chelles told him, "I'm sure I'll be fine,"

"I know," Francis smiled at Alfred too.

The boys waited for Chelles while she went to get her doll and change it into its walking clothes.

Alfred thought dolls were stupid; they didn't do anything interesting, and they had horrible glass eyes that followed you around a room.

Chelles returned with the doll in her arms, "allons-nous?" _Shall we? _She smiled, laughing, before hurrying ahead of them into the garden.

Kaoru managed to locate a part of the wall that was easy enough to get over, then they were away into the outside world.

Everything seemed so much easier without Francis or Arthur around. Alfred knew (though he'd never admit it) that they were more experienced nations, but did anyone teach them?

The new area they'd come to was more rocky and hilly than where they'd used to live. But it was fun to have to watch your step; Alfred liked to think it was making him sharper in the ways of his world.

Matthew was paying heed to every word Francis had said, so was guiding Chelles carefully, and testing the rock before she walked there.

It made their progress slow, but none of them could criticize his actions.

After about an hour, Matthew insisted they stopped so Chelles could rest- it was harder to play in this terrain while wearing a skirt.

Alfred suggested she just rip it, or hitch it up.

Chelles looked horrified at the suggestion, "mummy said girls shouldn't pull their skirts above they're ankles, mine is already too high."

"Well, _mummy _would know" Alfred smirked, it felt good to be able to put the restrictive Brit down in some way.

"Alfred don't be horrible" Matthew defended her, fixing Alfred with his attempt at a warning glare.

Finding the Canadian's face even more amusing, Alfred decided he'd better get himself out of here before he fell out with somebody.

"I'm going to climb that hill," he pointed to a smallish hill a little further ahead, "does anyone want to come with me?"

"I'll go" Bruce volunteered leaping to his feet.

Kaoru said nothing, but he too looked ready to go.

Matthew felt a sense of betrayal from Alfred. Out of all the others he lived in the house with, he'd always felt closest to Alfred; but now he just seemed to think only of himself constantly.

"Go then!" He snapped, surprising himself as well as the others, by how angry he sounded, "I'll take care of Chelles."

The girl looked both grateful and worried. "I'll be fine if you want to go too" she assured him, knowing that it was impolite to cause someone else bother.

"No, I'd rather stay down here, than go up that hill with him," Matthew sat down next to Chelles, turning his head away from Alfred.

Alfred's chest seemed to swell and he pulled a furious, but controlled face, before marching off in the direction of the hill with the other two.

Neither Chelles nor Matthew spoke until the others were out of sight.

"You like him don't you" Chelles spoke slowly, but sounded sure of herself.

Matthew felt his face heat up, "W-Who are you talking about?"

"That's rich coming from the guy that Arthur forgot to lay the table for during lessons," she patted his arm, assuring that she wasn't being nasty. "You've started to look at him in a funny way, I've seen mum doing that with papa as well."

Matthew laughed, "you should tell him that." It would be funny to see how the Brit would react if someone suggested he might actually like Francis more than he'd admit (and he never admitted anything of the sort).

He knew she was right. Sleeping next to Alfred last night, even though they had separate beds now, he wanted to stay close to him. Was that wrong? He was sure there was some sort of law that made it illegal, or at the very least wrong.

"I'm just a kid, I don't know what I'm talking about" Matthew shrugged, "I'm not in love with him," his voice hiccuped, "and if I am, I'll just have to teach myself not to be."

"You look so much like papa, but act so much like mum" Chelles sighed sympathetically.

"Didn't we see you a few days ago?" Matthew's head snapped up. The two boys that had pushed into Alfred in the toy shop were standing a little way off.

Feeling that brotherly sense kick in, Matthew stumbled to his feet, "P-Please go away."

Chelles shook her head; she'd be better off defending herself.

The boys seemed amused by this. "I'm Harris, and this is my kid brother Michael," both boys moved closer towards them, "who are you?"

Clearing his throat, and standing his ground, Matthew introduced himself and Chelles as his sister.

"You don't look alike?" Michael questioned, tilting his head at them, then looking up at his older brother to see if what he said was true.

"She was adopted," Matthew knew this was more realistic than him, because both he, Francis, and Arthur had blond hair; and a dark haired child was unlikely with such fathers.

With a sudden quick movement, Harris pushed Matthew to the ground, laughing as the small blond boy tried to struggle back to his feet.

"Get up and I'll hit you back down again," Harris had heard his father say something like that a few weeks ago.

Throwing a panicked look in the direction of the hill, Matthew wished he had insisted on the others staying, they were much better at things like this than him.

Harris lunged forwards, snatching Chelles' new doll from her hands, holding it out of her reach.

"What a cute little doll, give me a kiss, and I might give it back."

Getting back to his feet Matthew tried to grab the doll back. He was taller than Chelles, but still not tall enough.

Harris held it a little higher, taking a step back. The wrong step back.

Matthew hadn't realised that they were close enough to the edge of the slope for it to collapse.

"You two back!" He shouted at the younger boy, and Chelles; he managed to grab hold of Harris' hand and pull him back to safety.

The boy looked stunned at the help, so shook himself free of the other boy, with a mutter. But he did seem to be motioning to Michael that they were going.

If it hadn't of been embarrassing to do so Matthew may have given a victory dance, but he managed to control himself. Also noting to step away from the edge. He did have a story to tell when Alfred got back.

He could hear the heavy sound of Alfred's footsteps now.

"Are those boys gone, did they hurt you! ?" Alfred seized Matthew's shoulders, studying the Canadian's face carefully, before pulling him into a tight hug.

"Hey, I'm the one that sorted them out!" Though Matthew couldn't sound completely angry while Alfred was holding him so close. "You should be worried about Chelles, not me."

"I worry about you constantly," Alfred's voice was so quiet and sincere that Matthew didn't know what to come back with, and he was grateful the others hadn't heard it.

Overcome by embarrassment, Matthew took an miscalculated step backwards, closer towards the crumbling cliff. The next thing he felt was Alfred's body pushing him back, and then the cliff gave way, and Alfred went with it.

Everything seemed to freeze momentarily.

Bruce and Kaoru still weren't back.

Matthew felt sick, he didn't want to look over the side of the drop. It wasn't too high, but it was incredibly rocky. Nations couldn't die, Francis had told him that. But how could anyone have survived that?

Chelles began to panic, hurrying forwards to support Matthew, who had lost the support of his legs.

"Go and get Francis or Arthur!" Chelles shouted back at the two boys who had just walked in on the scene.

Kaoru's eyes widened, but Bruce nodded, turning back in the direction towards the house and full pelt.

The Australian knew he wasn't as close to the family as the others; he and Kaoru were a little like the black sheep of the family, but that didn't mean he didn't care about them.

So he leapt the wall back into the garden, almost colliding with Francis and Arthur who had been calling them for the last fifteen minuets for dinner.

"Where have you been!" Arthur demanded, glancing over his shoulder, "and where are the others? I hope they're not all as messy as you..."

"Alfred fell!" Bruce spat out before bursting into tears, "we can't get him up, and he isn't moving."

Arthur's face paled, "shit, we need to go and get him," and the Brit would have already leapt over the wall if Francis hadn't held him back.

"Non, we don't want someone else panicking, it won't help. You stay here and take care of your Koala, and I'll send the others back to you, don't worry, I'll bring Alfred back."

Arthur shook his head, "no way are you making me stay behind this time, he's my colony I have more right to get him than you."

Sighing, Francis knew he couldn't win.

"Fine, you come with me, and we'll send the kids back to the house. Bruce can you stay here?"

Bruce nodded, wiping his red nose with the back of his hand.

When they arrived at the scene, Matthew was regaining consciousness, though they'd still heard nothing from Alfred; and no one had dared look over the edge.

"Kids go home, dinner's probably cold, but it's on the table; we'll take care of this," Arthur was speaking in his stern voice, but it was trembling slightly.

It was already quite dark by now, so it was hard to judge the distance of the fall or see how bad a state Alfred was in.

"Can you hear me lad?" Arthur called, bending over the side; feeling Francis take hold of the back of his shirt in case he fell or the land gave way.

There was no reply.

Francis pulled Arthur back quickly. "I'll go down and pass him up to you," he managed to keep his voice level. Someone needed to stay calm.

"Be careful" Arthur whispered. But there was no blush with his request, not even when Francis kissed his cheek gently in reassurance.

Testing the ground, Francis began to climb down, feeling around for Alfred's limp form. Of course the child would recover, but it was probably a fall that would have killed most people; and a nasty one at that, it would probably be a while before he was up and running again.

Then he felt something.

The something gave a very soft cry. Francis felt his calm demeanour slipping away, he'd never heard such a sound from the young American before.

"It's okay Alfred, it's Francis here, I've got you," Francis slipped his arm under the injured body, calling up to Arthur to see how far away he was.

Managing to climb a bit while holding Alfred, he passed him the rest of the way up, where Arthur's fingers lightly brushed against his in the transaction.

When he pulled his way back up onto steady ground, Arthur was hugging the boy's body and crying partly with the relief of having him back, and partially in horror at the horrid breaks and gashes.

"Shall I carry him back?" Francis offered, ready not to argue if Arthur wanted to do it.

But the Brit nodded, passing the boy over.

They hurried back to the house where the dinner was untouched, and all the others were waiting for their return.

Arthur let Francis carry Alfred to his room, so he could tend to Matthew who had just been sick, and Chelles who had fainted.

Alfred's body was still limp, one leg was twisted a right angles, deep gashes pulled all over his body, and blood welled behind the parts of his shirt that hadn't been torn by the rocks.

Finding his strength and reason return now that Alfred was safely back in the house; Arthur washed the boys, and left Chelles to wash herself while he spoke to her through the door, to be sure she didn't faint again.

He also managed to convince Matthew to share a room with the other two boys for the night.

It was almost two hours later when he managed to go and see how his last colony was doing.

Francis was sitting by his bedside, cleaning the wounds. By the look of Alfred's leg, Francis had snapped it back into place, and held it there till he felt the bone had healed itself enough.

"Do you want to take over?" Francis offered Arthur the cloth and bucket.

Feeling he wanted to do something to help Alfred now, Arthur took over, while Francis sat beside him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Poor kid" Arthur mumbled, wiping away the blood from a particularly nasty cut on his chest, "has he gained consciousness yet?"

"He gave a small cry when I lifted him, but nothing since," Francis shook his head, "but don't worry, he's a strong nation, more than you give him credit for; he'll pull through."

The blush returning to Arthur's face was sign that he was calming down.

"Thank you," Arthur didn't look up as he spoke, still tending his patient's wounds.

"No reason to thank me" Francis shrugged, "your doing just as much work as me..." He was cut-off by the feeling of Arthur's mouth suddenly pressed against his.

_**Author's note: Just to let people know, this is an example of a story that I usually refrain from writing, or hold back on. I just really want to write one like this~ **_

_**I usually make these stories up during long car journeys through the centre of France in the Summer, when I've been away from a computer for weeks, so they sometimes sound a little wild and needy. **_


	8. Chapter 8

Bringing his hand up to Arthur's cheek, Francis found himself pulling the Brit deeper into the kiss. Arthur had initiated it, and he wasn't pulling back now.

He eagerly accepted Francis' tongue, running his own along it, in a messy but affectionate manner. With all the overprotection Francis had been perusing since they were children, it was unlikely Arthur had been able to practise a kiss.

He let the Brit draw back for air, letting his lust filled eyes drift over Arthur's blushing but pleased face.

Then what had happened dawned on them.

"S-Sorry, got a bit carried away," Arthur returned quickly to Alfred, unable to stop his fingers lifting to touch his lips where Francis' had been a few seconds ago.

"No, I..." Francis got up, moving to stand by the back wall, "you're like a child..."

"A what?" Arthur turned round, looking confused.

"I want to keep you safe, you don't want a relationship with me, I'm a terrible lover, and I might hurt you..." Francis rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger, "You may seem strict and adult to children, but your a child yourself,"

"Do I look like a child?" Finishing with the mopping of Alfred's wounds, Arthur got to his feet striding up to Francis, trying to look taller.

"You always want your own way, you believe in faeries..."

"They are real!"

"...You enjoy stories more than the children do, you view the world in such an innocent way," Francis bit his lip; he wanted Arthur so much, but he couldn't touch something that seemed so pure. He loved and lusted, he could be violent and rough, he couldn't bring Arthur into that.

"Francis..." Arthur pulled at the Frenchman's shirt with irritation, "I'm not a child, don't think of me like that."

Smiling, Francis pushed him back, "do you even remember what I promised when we were children?"

Feeling a twinge in his short-term memory, Arthur remembered Francis saying something similar when they were in that wagon.

"What?" He needed to know this time. Francis seemed to think it was something so important, but Arthur himself couldn't even remember it.

_1123 A.D_

"_Come on you silly thing," Francis gave Arthur a prod down the hall, "as a nation it's your job to attend court; but remember to keep a low profile, you don't want anyone to know there's such thing as a nation."_

"_Why?" This had always confused the eleven year old looking child, why didn't the ordinary people need to know about there being such thing as a nation. His royal family knew, but even they were sworn to secrecy about it._

"_Because people are stupid" Francis laughed as though it was obvious, "they wouldn't know whether to burn you, or treat you like a God."_

_Deciding he'd like neither, Arthur agreed not to say anything._

"_Just relax and socialise" Francis told him, "It's good to know what people think of your king and his policies."_

_The court was completely packed with people._

_Young wives that looked little older than Arthur himself were talking in a corner, some already had swollen stomachs, full of a new life._

"_Don't look at the women" Francis warned, "or their husbands may interpret something in it."_

_Nodding, Arthur dropped his eyes to the floor._

_Within minuets he had lost Francis in the crowd, and found himself being pushed closer towards the edge of the room, closer to where the women were chatting._

"_Aren't you the sweetest of souls" one suddenly exclaimed, calling her friends towards him, "my, my, what are you doing here; you don't look older than seven,"_

"_I'm eleven" Arthur protested indignantly._

_A very young woman exclaimed in bewilderment, "that's only a year younger than me, but bless me, you look so young."_

_Remembering what Francis had said, Arthur backed away, "I shouldn't be talking to women, your husbands might misinterpret."_

"_But they'll see nothing but a child keeping us entertained," the young woman held him back, "I hope my child if God grants me a boy will be like you, that would be a blessing."_

_The young English nation found himself beginning to relax with the women; they were a lot easier to talk to than the men, they even liked the stories he told about his faerie friends._

"_Oh dear," the youngest one that was only a year older than him, suddenly stepped in front of him, "my husband is coming, perhaps you should go."_

_The said husband looked almost three times older than his wife. He was a tough looking man, with a short dark beard, and a head of ruffled looking black hair; his cold grey eyes frightened Arthur enough to hurry away to where he couldn't be seen._

_He heard the man inquiring who he was, but didn't stay to see if the women replied._

_The court was too much for him; surely Francis wouldn't hold it against him if he headed back to his chamber and waited till it was all over._

_Slipping back into the hall, be began to head towards the stairs._

_Though he began to feel a little calmer when the loud voices seemed to lower themselves to a __murmur, so he stopped in the hall, contemplating whether he should use this rare chance to run out and play with his faeries without Francis bothering him._

_"Hey kid," Arthur jumped, glancing round to see the husband of the young girl in court._

"_C-Can I help you?" Arthur remembered the manners Francis had taught him, but found himself quickly planning his escape route._

"_Come here," the man seized his wrist, dragging him down the hall in the direction of the guest rooms. _

_After the initial shock wore off, Arthur dug in his heels and began to struggle, "what are you doing bastard! ? Let me go!" He bit down hard on the man's hand, letting his sharp teeth draw blood. However the battle hardened warrior dismissed it like a flea bite._

_The man opened a door at the end of the hall and dragged Arthur inside. It was one of the bedrooms reserved for rich guests, Arthur wondered whether it belonged to the man._

_That was at least until his wrists were tied to the rail of the bed with a scrap of material._

"_What are you doing, I demand you tell me!" Arthur struck out with his feet, kicking the man away when he moved in closer with another rag._

"_Don't play innocent, I married my wife when she was younger than you," the man tied the rag round his mouth, tightening it so it was cutting into the sides of his mouth._

_Closing his eyes to hold back his confused and frightened tears, Arthur continued to kick. What was this guy doing? He didn't like not understanding what was going on._

_Meanwhile, Francis had just looked up to see where the younger English nation had gotten to. He'd probably snuck off, but even so, Francis felt like he should go and find him._

_He was about the quit the room when he caught sight of a sobbing girl. She looked around Arthur's age, so Francis hoped the little scamp hadn't been making trouble._

"_Are you okay Mademoiselle?" He offered her his tissue, but she ignored it._

"_You're his friend right?" She asked, "the cute little kid?"_

_Cute little kid? Was she talking about Arthur? The English boy wasn't cute, he was rude and annoying._

"_You mean Arthur?" _

"_That's the one," she choked back a sob, "my husband... He..." She began crying again._

"_Did he start flirting after I told him not to?" Francis sighed, now he had to go and get the idiot out of a dual that he'd probably loose._

"_No, my husband's going to take him, that's what he said!" _

_Something clicked in Francis' head, as the words washed over him. A change in his heart, and the __way he viewed the world. He could feel something burning inside of him._

_Without a moment's delay he hurried from the room, kicking open every door he passed. The only thing that seemed to matter now was that Arthur was safe, he needed him to be safe._

_Reaching a door near the end he found what he was looking for._

_A force seemed to guide his hands and words when he said, "Arthur close your eyes."_

_Italy had told him a long time ago when they were children that Rome had told him to close his eyes when he was about to kill someone._

_He waited till the moment Arthur's eyelids closed tightly. Lifting his hand he pointed it at the man's chest, and felt something beating in his hands._

_Fitting that the country of love could feel a human's heart like this._

_Francis could see everything burning inside that heart. All the pride of his honours, the hope of a son from his young pregnant wife. _

_The man had gone rigid, freezing where he was, a look of panic and bewilderment on his face. Francis had no idea what he looked like, but it must be scary to create such a terrified look._

_He closed his fist, and the man dropped dead onto the floor. Hearts were something that could be crushed easily if you had the means to do it._

_There was not a drop of blood anywhere in sight. The heart had simply exploded inside the chest, without anyone having to physically touch it._

_Francis rushed to Arthur's side, feeling everything returning to normal. "You can open your eyes" he whispered, as he cut the bonds first, then the gag._

_The poor boy's wrists were bloody, but mending now the restraints had been removed._

"_Did he do anything to you?" Francis asked, sounding a lot calmer than he was, "Arthur what did he do to you?"_

"_What was he going to do?" The boy's voice was frightened. His shirt had been torn open, and a few marks laced his chest, but no other harm had been done._

_Francis pulled Arthur close to him. He felt something burning off the boy that he hadn't felt before. But he could also feel it being suppressed by something around himself._

_He let it filter through slowly, then pushed it out again immediately._

_As the country of love, he thought he was the only one that could attract people to him, but there was something about Arthur too. Not the same as his..._

"_What was he going to do?" Arthur asked again, burying his head in Francis' chest, "tell me,"_

"_He was going to rape you," Francis let the words drop from his mouth. But they didn't seem to have the same effect on the boy._

"_What is rape?" The innocence of the way he said it made Francis shiver._

"_It's forcing you to take part in something intimate that you don't want to do" he explained, "But don't worry," he calmed the crying boy, "I promise that I'll never let anyone touch you or hurt you."_

That was the promise. The vow, that Francis had never forgotten, even if Arthur had.

As he recited the story to the Brit, he saw the terrifying memory returning.

When he was finished, Arthur swallowed, then pulled a brave smile, "so why won't you?"

"Didn't I just explain" Francis sighed impatiently, "When I sad anyone I meant myself as well, but..." he stopped himself quickly, but Arthur pressed him, "...but I'm beginning to find it harder than ever."

Having Francis refuse him like that, had made any doubts Arthur had about entering a relationship with him vanish. If Francis didn't want it, Arthur wanted it; even if it was purely by principle.

"But what if I want someone to touch me?" Arthur's cheeks coloured, but he brought he hands up to either side of Francis' face, standing on his toes so they were level.

"Arthur you know what sort of a lover I am" Francis sighed, "What if I cheat on you?"

"You won't"

"What if I'm too rough with you?"

"You won't be." Arthur smiled, a happy look brightening his green eyes in a way that Francis hadn't seen before, "I trust you."

That was all Francis needed, he lowered his face, kissing the mouth he'd wanted for so long, but remembering to move slowly and gently, savouring every part.

"Can't you old-timers snog elsewhere," a voice mumbled.

Breaking apart, both of them rushed to Alfred's bedside. The boy's blue eyes were open a fraction, but he was smiling painfully.

"Are you feeling alright?" Arthur touched so of the worst cuts, wondering if they would scar.

"I just fell down a rather large drop and hit several rocks on the way down, considering I'm still alive, I'd say I was feeling more alright than most people,"

"No need to be cocky" Arthur laughed, hugging him gently so as not to cause him any more pain, "but what were you doing so close to the edge?"

Alfred winced, looking pained, "I had to stop Matty falling."

Francis and Arthur exchanged a glance.

"Why was Matthew near the edge?" Francis asked quietly, he couldn't believe the good little boy he'd raised would do something so reckless.

"He saved this boy from falling when the ground gave way. The boy ran off, but Matty forgot how close the edge was... I hugged him because I was relieved he was okay, but he stepped away from me..." Alfred's lip began to tremble.

Arthur hushed him gently, "Matthew's fine, he's asleep now in Bruce and Kaoru's room, you need to rest as well."

Alfred nodded, glancing at Francis and Arthur once more. "At least go to your own room if you're going to continue." 


	9. Chapter 9

Francis closed the bedroom door behind him, fixing Arthur with an awkward look. He had never not known what to do with a lover in a bedroom before.

"I'm not doing anything tonight," he finally came to his decision, checking the clock. It was already building up to three in the morning anyway.

"That's fine" Arthur agreed, his face colouring more openly this time. He picked up his night clothes, and began heading to the bathroom. "Just because we're trying this out doesn't change my opinion that your a pervert" he muttered as he left.

Francis laughed, changing into his boxers before hopping into bed. If this 'try out' became permanent, maybe they'd be sharing a bed for the rest of their years in America.

When the Brit did return, he snuggled down in the bed, edging nervously closer to the Frenchman, until Francis gave up waiting for him, and closed the last bit of distance, so they were sleeping right next to each other.

The Brit only flinched slightly when Francis kissed his exposed shoulder, before murmuring a goodnight.

Arthur stayed awake a little longer. Had this all really just happened? Francis had agreed to being his lover... Of course that didn't mean in anyway that Francis would be allowed to go on any more 'business' trips to Paris.

If Francis wanted to be clingy with him, he'd be clingy back.

It was maybe about an hour later when they were both awoken by a pressure on the bed. Matthew was sitting on the foot of the bed, fixing them with large hopeful eyes.

"Matthew?" Arthur sat up, rubbing his eyes, hearing Francis stirring beside him, "what's wrong?"

"Is Alfred any better?"

Exchanging a glance, the older nations motioned him towards them, "he's fine, but he needs to rest until his wounds have completely healed."

Matthew nodded, smuggling down between them, "can I sleep here tonight?"

"Well for what's left of it" Arthur yawned, trying to squint through the darkness at the clock. He lay down next to the boy, and Francis on the other side.

"Is it wrong to like another boy?" Matthew's cheeks flushed, and he bit his lip the moment he'd spoken.

Arthur sighed, but Francis replied straight away, "of course it isn't wrong, l'amour is something that everyone should share with whoever they want..."

The Brit cleared his throat, shooting Francis a glare, "but only one person at a time" he muttered, before returning total attention to the Canadian. "Society at the moment can be quite harsh at the moment... It's considered illegal in many places..."

"Not my country" Francis interrupted, "and if I still had control of Canada like I used to it would be legal in his country too."

"But..." Arthur reached over Matthew for Francis' hand, "...Alfred is still, and always had been, under my control, and my people that came here... they're hatred can be even more fanatical than back home..."

"So he couldn't like me?" Matthew sniffed, his eyes filling with tears.

Arthur hushed him, "I didn't say that, I told you it was illegal in my country too."

Matthew looked a little confused to the meaning of what Arthur had said, until he looked down at where Francis and Arthur's hands were locked together, resting on top of his bulk of the cover.

Smiling, and nodding, Matthew snuggled into both of them and drifted off to sleep.

"Bon nuit" Francis smiled for the second time that night,

"Good night, Frog."

The next morning Matthew was jumping on their bed at first light, demanding to see Alfred, and also be let off lessons so he could sit by his bedside.

"Let us get changed, you go get changed too then we'll go and see how Alfred is doing," Francis patted his colony's head.

Matthew nodded, rushing out of the room.

With Matthew gone, Francis rolled over, letting Arthur snuggle against his chest.

"Good morning" he smiled, running his hand through the Brit's messy bed hair; that was even worse than it usually was.

Gently placing a kiss on new lover's mouth, Francis stretched and got out of bed, pulling a fresh set of clothes on.

Arthur seemed to have fallen asleep again, so Francis decided it was best to leave him to get a bit more sleep.

Matthew was dressed and waiting outside his and Alfred's bedroom, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"He's probably still asleep, so you'll have to be quiet" Francis warned, opening the door slowly, wincing whenever it creaked.

The Canadian nodded, tiptoeing into the room, making his way across and clambering onto the chair by Alfred's bedside.

"I'll go make breakfast, tell me when he wakes up."

Arthur stumbled through about an hour later. He'd pulled a pair of trousers on but sill had Francis' shirt on.

"Looking lovely as ever" Francis grinned, laying toast and an egg in front of him, along with a kiss on his nose.

"Shut up" The Brit muttered, though he smiled when Francis glanced back to see if he was serious.

"Maybe the kids should stick to the back garden in a place like this" Francis suggested, knowing what would be on Arthur's mind once he'd completely woken up.

Arthur nodded, "they won't like it, but we can't keep coming after them if they fall on a bit of loose cliff."

Everything seemed to be settling down quite nicely. They'd found a house, had everything in it, and now Alfred was getting better.

Apart from that small problem in the toy shop, and his family, no one had bothered them.

"I should go into town and get something to fix the wall so the kids can't get out," Francis let out a long sigh, worrying that Arthur would want to come with him; now the Brit was officially his, he wanted even people even less to be able to think the thoughts about him that went through the Frenchman's mind by the minuet.

"I'll stay and entertain them till they're allowed outside" Arthur agreed, without Francis even having to talk him out of anything.

Smiling, Francis ran his hands through the Englishman's tangled hair, "Thank you, but I'm sure they'll be absorbed in hearing about Alfred's death experience the moment he wakes up."

This was true.

Just after Francis had left, Matthew came rushing through the house to tell them Alfred was awake. By this point Bruce, Kaoru, and Chelles had come down for breakfast.

Of course Alfred was over exaggerating everything, so Arthur left him and the other kids to it, so he could take a bath, and wash some of his clothes.

They were all growing up so fast. Part of him wanted them to stay cute little colonies forever; after all, some nations never grew up. Why was it then that his ones all seemed to be trying to pull away from him?

A horrid thought crept into his mind, what if the boy's even grew taller than him! ? That would be terrible. He dismissed it quickly; looking at them now, it was impossible to even imagine such a thing.

Francis in the town was thinking similar thoughts, but not entirely the same. How much longer was it safe to keep Arthur so close to the kids?

Of course it depended on how they grew up.

Italy had taken one look at Arthur and been afraid of him, Spain and Prussia on the other hand had asked Francis if Arthur wouldn't mind 'relieving them' if he had the time.

Like people, different nations reacted differently to him.

Francis couldn't see Matthew or Chelles lusting after the Brit... But Alfred might, and that would hurt more than just Arthur.

But everything seemed okay for now. After all, Alfred had just fallen off a cliff to protect Matthew; and he thought Arthur was just a strict old man.

Or maybe he was completely wrong and Alfred would be so attached to Matthew that he wouldn't care.

He managed to find his way to a shop that looked like it might sell what he was looking for. The shop keeper was happy enough to help him out, and even agreed with him when he told them his kid had _almost _had an accident.

On his way back he passed by the man he'd seen in the toy shop, that had moved his hand to touch Arthur. He mentally narrowed his eyes, but he just had to be patient, Arthur could stay in the house, and the bastard would eventually forget about him.

Francis didn't go around with the want to kill everybody that tried to catch his Arthur's eye, but if they tried to force anything on him, then Francis would take steps.

It wasn't like he could even help it. Ever since that first time; the moment he knew Arthur was in danger he seemed to shut down everything about himself that made him human. It was like the only focus of his entire being was keeping the Brit safe.

Even when they were at war, he wouldn't let anyone else hit him. He and Arthur hit each other all the time, and neither of them ever really hurt the other.

He'd only ever heard of three nations ever hitting what he reached when Arthur was in danger. Two were Rome and Germania, that were stirred by the need to protect their countries, and the third was the Holy Roman Empire.

Prussia's affectionately called younger brother had turned on a boy no older than fifteen and killed him, in the most violent way a nation knew how. And unlike Francis' it wasn't clean of blood.

All he'd heard was that the boy had been showing affection towards Italy over a few weeks. But it must have been more than that, no one exploded over something so trivial.

Roma's was the closest to what Francis was experiencing. But the nation had been dead for some time now.

Francis had never known Roma that well during his life. He and Arthur were probably the only nations in Europe that hadn't known him, apart from the cold Scandinavian countries in the north, that sometimes seemed a completely different continent by themselves.

However, it had been in the battle Francis had led that Roma vanished from the map.

"We've met, I'm Smith," the man caught him by the arm, smiling with a full set of teeth; Francis always hated it when people did that, it always seemed so fake.

"Yes" Francis nodded, pressing on; but to his annoyance Smith kept in step with him.

"So Arthur, he's a friend then?" Smith asked, though there was the sound of disbelief in his voice.

"Why, what else are you insinuating?" He knew he shouldn't reply, but Arthur would never forgive him if he didn't at least keep the rest of the world in the dark about this new relationship of theirs.

Smith lowered his voice, "don't tell me you don't want to fuck him too, you know he's practically begging to be abused..."

Amazingly, controlling himself, Francis smacked his fist around Smith's face with enough strength to knock him to the floor.

Bending down to pull Smith back up by his shirt, Francis hissed, "don't you dare come anywhere near our home!"

Smith just grinned and nodded, "yeah, you want to do it too."

Francis hit him once more, and stormed off before the idiot could open his mouth again.

He dumped the materials by the door that he'd bought in town, and found Arthur in the library, studying a home care book entitled: _How to wash your own clothes_.

When the Brit saw him, he hastily hid the book behind his chair.

Ignoring any stammered excuse Arthur was making about the book, Francis pulled him off the chair and into his arms, kissing him full on. He didn't pull back till he could feel Arthur's chest panting against his.

"You'll stay safe right? And won't do anything stupid?" Francis checked, after the Brit had caught enough of his breath to reply.

"What's this about?"

"I-I'm just worried about you..."

Arthur scoffed, "you're always worried about me," he hesitated, gathering that something clearly had worried his lover, "don't worry, I promise I won't even leave the house."

Satisfied, Francis kissed him softly to make up for the rougher one a moment ago.

"How's Alfred?"

"Coming on in leaps and bounds. According to him, when nations die they see a glowing white light and hear a voice calling them back to earth,"

"Why what do you see?" Francis tilted his head curiously.

Looking stunned, Arthur shrugged, "for a few seconds, nothing, it's like I've just fallen asleep."

Francis nodded, "same for me... Maybe God doesn't relate to nations, we do sin a lot," as he said it he snuck his wondering hand along Arthur's back, resting on his rear.

"You were a sin from the day you were born," Arthur slapped his hand away, but didn't look too unhappy about the attention.

"Non, non" the Frenchman protested, "I was a lovely child for a while, you were just around when I suddenly decided I was the country of Love, before that I was an innocent kid that liked art,"

Arthur snorted, "you're pulling my leg."

Francis raised his eyebrow at the strange Idiom, but continued his insistence, "I was like a cross between and artistic Italy, and a curious Spain, if that makes it easier. But remember," He touched the place where he knew Arthur's heart to be beating, "both you and me have Germanic blood in there."

_The days of Roman Gaul_

_Francis pointed to the picture Italy was showing him, "what's that?"_

"_The Colosseum" Italy beamed proudly, "you can watch shows there, it's great fun, Grandpa takes me some times."_

_The two boys were at the physical age of six, and had been running round the streets of Lutetia for several hours now, causing no end of trouble._

_Italy's grandfather was visiting to see how the colony in Gaul was coming, and had sent Italy of to play with the child the boy had found when they'd first arrived here many years ago._

_Francis didn't understand why Rome didn't seem to like him. _

_He'd agreed to speak Latin, and he welcomed Roman construction. He liked the way the Romans built buildings, and how they treasured art._

_Italy had once told him it was because he looked like Rome's enemy Germania. Blond hair, blue eyes; it was the sign of a barbarian. Francis had scoffed at this; after all, he was just as refined as the other Latin countries._

_At the end of the day Rome always called Italy back to the apartment he was staying in. He didn't let Italy stay with Francis._

_This was the time when Francis found himself moving swiftly towards the edge of his border, at the speed that a nation can only travel through their own country._

_The wide open land of Germania, even if he did like fine things, it still seemed to call him, and stir something in his heart._

"_Who are you?" A boy suddenly sprung forwards, pinning Francis to the ground._

_Struggling beneath him, Francis kicked and tried to shift their weight. This had never happened before._

_Then the boy pulled back. He had short messy white hair and red eyes._

"_Your a nation right?" He asked, looking Francis up and down with confusion, "your dressed like a Roman, but you look Germanic..."_

"_I'm Roman" Francis confirmed, hoping it didn't sound like he was self-denying, but it was hard._

_He liked violent tussles more than Italy did, he'd rather run wild and free than sit and be groomed. But he didn't want to be as messy and scrawny as this boy either._

_Could he be Germanic and Latin at the same time?_

"I'm not just one thing," Arthur tapped him away from his story, "remember I'm a Celt, the people that scared the Romans; I'm an Anglo-Saxon, the only invading Germanic country that tried to slaughter all the old inhabitants; I'm Viking, from the raiders that settled; I'm French, from the Norman blood I got from your invasion... Basically, I'm the worst of Europe combined into one country," he laughed, "no wonder I own so much of the world."


	10. Chapter 10

Alfred's condition improved by the hour.

Only a small scar on the side of his chest remained, and Arthur just sighed and told him it would probably stay there for the rest of his life.

Alfred saw this as him maturing, the older a nation was, or the more powerful, the more scars they seemed to have.

Of course when they told the kids over dinner that playing outside of the garden was now off limits they got a huge negative reaction from one half.

"But the garden's too small!" Bruce protested, pushing his plate of duck away immediately,

"we just need to get to know the area better" Alfred added, considering pushing his plate away, then taking a large mouthful.

"Your older now, you need to think of other ways to spend your time than running amok in the wilderness" Arthur shrugged, "your young gentleman and ladies now."

"Soon you boys can go and charm anyone down in the town, and Chelles can go to parties and meet all the wrong sort of men" Francis grinned, "one catch, don't fall in love with any of them; they don't last."

The Brit scowled across the table, "of course you shouldn't do that, unless you want his reputation. I'm sure some nice male nation will sweep Chelles off her feet when she's _older_, and as for the boys, let them grow up a bit more."

"Fine" Francis agreed, winking when Arthur wasn't looking.

"Besides," Arthur looked a little embarrassed, but determined, "I think I can remember promising to take Matthew to see Canada..."

Matthew's face lit up, "Oh, are we going, really?"

Arthur nodded, "I thought maybe at the weekend," The Brit glanced at Francis out of the corner of his eye, feeling a little guilty because he hadn't told him first. Francis' expression seemed the same, but his blue eyes had turned an icy blue.

Matthew finished dinner with a smile, then hugged Arthur afterwards, before hurrying away to his room to decide what to pack.

Arthur and Francis waited for the kids to leave before they spoke again.

"What were you thinking! ? Of course you can't go!" Francis hissed, "you think they're any different up in Canada!"

"It's a walking trip, out in the middle of nowhere, he wants to see the wildlife and landscape" Arthur tried to explain, but Francis was still frowning,

"You'll have to get on a train. A busy train. Dieu seul le sait you'll be easy to pick off!" Shaking his head, Francis kissed the younger male that was now trembling in front of him, "fine, you can go, but make sure Matthew stays with you at all times, he's a capable young man and more mature than the others."

Arthur smiled, "so he's taking care of me?"

"He's one of the lucky few that only gets the symptom of protection around you..." Francis held his tongue, he didn't want to tell him about his thoughts on Alfred quite yet.

Massaging his hands down Arthur's back, he risked a kiss close to the Brit's ear, grinning when he heard a soft moan.

"You're such a pervert," a sharp gasp escaped the Englishman's throat when Francis nipped the shell.

"But you're enjoying it," soft words were whispered into his ear, tickling every sense down to the eardrum.

"Hmm..." Arthur nodded absentmindedly letting his body relax against the Frenchman's, while expert fingers continued to rub his back. "Just don't expect me to sleep with you after this, I want to know you want it enough not to go and find someone else to fill the space,"

"You won't be disappointed" Francis grinned, moving his mouth lower, down the Brit's neck, sucking on the sensitive skin.

"Francis..."

"No one will know, remember your going out into the wilderness, and the kids don't know what it is," Francis answer was hummed against the crook of his neck.

A bright mark stood where his mouth had been, still hot and wet.

Turning his head, Arthur initiated a messy kiss, letting Francis' hands move to his face to make the kiss more controlled.

"Your kissing in here too?" Alfred had come back to see if he could sneak anything else from the kitchen, "Shouldn't you be doing that stuff in private," he indicated his own neck, then pointed at Arthur's.

The Brit blushed, shooting daggers at the Frenchman, "did you tell him about this stuff?"

Before Francis could reply, Alfred had shrugged and shook his head, "nah, Bruce saw people doing it back in his own country and told us about it."

"I'm going to kill that idiot!" Arthur shouted through the house, letting one of the kids know he was hunting them, so as to give them a head start.

Deciding he'd just come back later for food, Alfred wondered back out into the hall.

"Dam, so they do know what it is..." Arthur placed his hand over the mark, "plus people are going to see it on the train..."

"Good, they'll know you're spoken for, now didn't you have a child to murder?" Francis patted Arthur's messy hair, moving over to the sink to do the dishes.

Arthur wondered out into the hall to find all the kids waiting for him by the sitting room door.

"So it is true," Chelles gave a small giggle, eyes glued to Arthur's neck, "does that mean your in love with each other?"

Feeling his face flushing red, Arthur rushed them all into the sitting room, trying to look angry, "O-Of course not, Francis does this sort of thing with everybody, a mark on the neck means nothing." Why was he even discussing this with them...

"But you love him?" Chelles continued to question, her girlish face brightened with glee,

"I... Look, it's got nothing to do with you kids..."

"Have you had sex?" Now Alfred was the one asking questions, a mischievous smirk spreading over his smug face.

"No! Go and play in the garden or read a book!" With that Arthur stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Alfred shrugged after he'd left, "Yep, they've slept together,"

"How do you know?" Chelles bounded up to him curiously.

Matthew held back, eyeing Alfred carefully, "I don't think they have, when you saw them kissing yesterday, I think that was the first time; and I slept in their room pretty much all night,"

"Good view then?" Alfred grinned innocently.

Feeling his heart rush with anger, and embarrassment at being mocked by the person he liked, Matthew left the room, maybe hiking round the garden a few times would help prepare him for his hiking trip in a few days.

Francis watched the sensitive child marching around in the back garden, stopping every now and then to let out irritated huffs.

Finishing off with the dished, he wondered outside. "What's wrong Matthieu?"

Jumping, Matthew turned around to face him, biting his lip, tears threatening from his eyes.

"Alfred doesn't like me..."

"He told you that?"

"No, but I know he doesn't, he's been acting recently, even before his fall..." Rubbing his eyes quickly, Matthew tried to hold himself together.

"Hey, hey, it's okay to cry" Francis whispered, bending down to Matthew's level, and putting a hand on his shoulder, "you may be a lot like Arthur, but you're also like me, we cry when we want to cry."

Nodding, Matthew let his tears fall freely.

"He said that you and Arthur were sleeping together, and I said you weren't."

A little surprised, Francis blinked, "Well I suppose you're right, we haven't, can you see someone like Arthur caving after a few kisses?"

"No," Matthew's lip twitched upwards for a second, then dropped again, "Alfred just seems so cold..."

"That's because your thirteen years old, or at least you look it. When thirteen year olds like something, they try and deny it. Remember Alfred just took a fall for you that temporarily killed him. You go on your trip with Arthur, and I'm sure he'll miss you terribly."

Looking more cheerful, Matthew wiped away the rest of his tears, and went back inside with Francis.

They almost collided with Alfred on the way in. The boy's face was flushed and guilt ridden.

"I-I'm sorry Matty, I shouldn't have said that stuff..." He flicked his eyes up at Francis, hoping the Frenchman didn't catch on that he had been half of the conversation.

"It's fine" Matthew nodded, taking the American's hand with a smile, "How about we go and play with that train set we got in the toy shop?"

Breaking into a wide smile, Alfred nodded, pulling Matthew by the hand towards their room.

Feeling his work was done, Francis sat down in the kitchen chair, slightly more convinced that he was wrong about Alfred. That American really did like Matthew, Francis was the country of love; he knew love when he saw it.

Speaking of love. Arthur suddenly entered the kitchen, muttering something under his breath. "They all know, they all know!"

"If you're talking about us, we are living in the same house, they were bound to find out. What, are you worried they're going to tell someone?" Francis shrugged with a smile, "they never leave the house, and you never let anyone apart from me in any of your colonies."

"You're right," there was a strangled tone in Arthur's voice as he phrased the words. Satisfied with his amusement, Francis didn't sat anything. "I'd better go put the kids to bed," Arthur moved quickly towards the door.

Stretching, Francis wondered towards the library where he knew Arthur would head once the kids were in bed. Maybe he'd get him to read to him again.

Sure enough, Arthur turned up right on que. He frowned when he saw Francis stretched out in his chair, but pulled a book from one of the shelves and let Francis pull him down onto his lap.

He began to read, trying to ignore the hands that kept running through his hair, or running over his shoulders.

After about half and hour, The Brit put the book down with a sigh, "Are you going to keep this up until I sleep with you?"

"Oui" came the honest reply, "besides you're going away for at lest four days in at the weekend, I want to have something to remember you by."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur put down the book, turning so he was straddling Francis' lap and facing him.

Francis gave a light grin, staying where he was while Arthur kissed him. He only began to move when the Englishman let out a frustrated moan.

Slowly he worked his hands up the inside of Arthur's shirt, tracing the lines of the smaller man's shoulder blades, feeling every tingle he was shooting up the Brit's spine.

Pulling his hands back, he slowly began to undo the buttons of the waist coat, pushing it from him and letting it slip to the floor. The shirt was easier, he only had to undo the top few buttons to slip it below his prey's shoulders.

He led his mouth and fingers to the erect nipple, pinching and nipping.

Arthur had thrown his head back, panting, his hands locking in Francis' hair for support.

When Arthur was completely distracted he moved his mouth to his shoulder; another love bite wouldn't hurt, especially if no one could see it.

"You can't let the kids think I'm some sort of whore" Arthur struggled to say, braking up words with his ecstatic gasps.

"This is under your shirt" Francis explained between sucks, "I'm just marking you cher,"

"You're not a Frog, you're a dog" Arthur half muttered to himself, moaning when Francis nipped his skin a little more sharply than before.

"Vous amusez?" _Enjoying yourself? _Francis asked mischievously when his mark was laid,

Arthur bit his lip and didn't reply, only laxing his hold on the Frenchman's hair and kissing him as hard as he could.


	11. Chapter 11

Matthew was practically bounding around the station with excitement, while Alfred tried not to look too depressed.

Francis was trying to give Arthur the largest goodbye he could manage without someone calling the police, ending in a quick kiss on the busy platform when someone bumped into them.

The last call for their train was ringing.

Arthur patted Matthew's shoulder, steering him away from Alfred and towards the train, with one last wave back at the family, before hopping on board in the hope that they could still find a seat.

"Maybe we should go with them..." Alfred said almost the moment that Matthew had disappeared,

"They'll be fine" Francis assured him, leading the kids away, knowing full well that if they didn't come back on the right train he would be over to Canada to pick them up himself.

"Why are we complaining?" Bruce grinned, "we have three days with Francis, we can get away with anything."

"Really?" Chelles blinked, "does that mean we don't have to do lessons?"

"Of course not, where did you even get this weird idea that I'm less strict than him?"

"Because you are" Bruce shrugged like it was obvious,

"No, I just am because Arthur usually takes care of it. You ought to see me when I'm really angry," Francis smiled, pushing them away from the station back towards the town.

He knew he couldn't be as strict as Arthur towards children, but he was determined that Arthur shouldn't come back to ruined kids.

However much he tried to call them back to his side, by the time they got back to the house, all four of them were covered from head to toe in mud and dust, then they refused to take a bath.

He finally managed to tumble them into the bath, Chelles, then the boys, only with the promise of crepes for breakfast, and whatever they wanted for dinner.

This was going to be a long weekend.

In the end Arthur had to sit Matthew on his lap; the boy was jumping around so much it was bothering the other passengers. They'd managed to find one free seat in the furthest packed carriage.

"How much further?" Matthew bounded over to the window, standing on a lady's lap,

Arthur pulled him back down, smiling slightly, "well you should know" he whispered, "it's your country, just think about it really hard; like you saw Alfred doing when he was looking for a new home."

Matthew nodded, closing his eyes and tensing his face.

Chuckling, Arthur stroked his cheek, "relax."

Nodding, Matthew relaxed his face, trying to imagine the country of his birth that he had no memory of.

"I think..." Matthew bit his lip, trying harder, "about three-hundred miles away?"

"Sounds about right, now try and get some sleep," moving his hands in soothing motions through Matthew's hair the way he'd seen Francis do sometimes.

It seemed to work, because the boy snuggled into his chest and was soon breathing softly, fast asleep.

Feeling his head begin to drop, Arthur was soon asleep as well. Three-hundred miles on a train left a lot of time to sleep.

Waking with a start maybe about two hours later, the English nation blinked around him. Something seemed different...

Matthew!

Leaping to his feet, Arthur searched the silent sleeping carriage, Matthew was gone.

"Matthew!" Arthur hissed as quietly as he could, bending down to search under seats. Where had that boy gone? He was usually so well behaved.

Passing into the corridor, he hurried along to the nearest bathroom, it was open, and no one was in there.

His heart rate was beginning to increase, "Matthew! ?" spinning back down to the rest of the train, he began searching every carriage.

Nowhere, where the hell was he!

Struck by a sudden thought, Arthur sighed, moving back the way he came. Opening the door to the outside.

Matthew was standing outside looking back at the track.

"Matthew!" Arthur wasn't sure whether to be furious or relieved. Judging by the lack of light it was probably quite late at night.

"Sorry..." The boy clearly knew he'd done something wrong; even in the dark Arthur could see Matthew's cheeks flushing, and his eyes looking at the floor.

Sighing, Arthur reached for his hand, watching the track with him.

"It's fine, this is probably the first time you've ever been to your country,"

"Francis found me here as a baby and took me to America where you were."

Arthur tried to hide his blush, but he was sure Matthew spotted it.

"You really do love him don't you," the boy smiled,

Hesitating, Arthur paused before smiling lightly, "yes, I do."

The two stayed outside for a few more minuets before Matthew let out a yawn.

"Let's go back and get some sleep," Arthur lifted the light boy into his arms. He was a lot lighter than Alfred.

He usually didn't get to spend this much time with Matthew, it was a nice change.

Finding his way back to his seat, he sat Matthew carefully on his lap, securing his arms around him this time.

"You two, are both too full of emotion" he smiled to himself.

They were woken a few hours later when the other passengers began to stir. According to Matthew he still reckoned they had about fifty miles to go, but that wouldn't take any time at all.

His excitement was quickly returning, but he was trying to behave in a more controlled manner now, and didn't go outside until he had asked Arthur's permission, and agreed to him come with him.

Every now and then he'd jump, as if expecting the borderline any minuet.

"When I cross the border, will I feel it?"

Arthur patted his back, "yeah, you should do; but I won't tell you what it's like because that would ruin the surprise."

The feeling was a strange one. Arthur rarely travelled anywhere apart from America and France, at least since the war with Spain ended. Quite a number of years ago, Arthur had stopped feeling the border change between France and England.

Even rules that nations thought always applied to themselves, were being tested and proved wrong all the time.

Apparently a nation (from what he'd heard) only went completely killer like Francis had done, if their country was in trouble. Arthur had fought a one hundred year war against the Frenchman, and never seen anything like that.

He'd also learned another neat trick that he intended to show Matthew once they were clear of the station.

He saw a funny look come over the Canadian's face, then a wide smile, like the weights of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

"I felt it."

Giving him a squeeze, Arthur grinned; they were almost there.

It wasn't that much longer before the train began to slow as it approached the station. Arthur took Matthew back to their carriage to fetch their belongings.

"I wish we had time to see everything..." Matthew let out a long sigh, as he lifted his bag from under their seat, and moving with Arthur and the rest of the passengers towards the nearest exit.

"Maybe not everything, but I want to show you something that will make it a lot easier," winking, Arthur pulled them through a gap in the sea of people towards the door.

The station itself was still quite busy, so Arthur pointed to a distant hill maybe a mile or two to the left. "I'll show you what it is when we get up there."

Eager, Matthew walked on ahead, looking back every now and then to make sure Arthur was still insight. He seemed to be able to move more quickly through his own country; he was sure Arthur wasn't walking any slower.

Everything seemed so fresh and clean next to America. Even if people said that he and Alfred looked alike, he was forever now reassured that they had their differences.

When he reached the top of the hill, he sat down on the grass to wait for his British guardian. It was perhaps a little colder than Alfred's country, but Matthew preferred it like this.

He lay down, looking up at the sky, and wondered how Francis was getting on with the others.

"Right," Arthur smiled, but he looked tired from the climb; Matthew still felt like they were only about to begin.

"What was it you wanted to show me?" Matthew jumped up to his feet again, eagerly looking around for some sort of event or surprise.

Arthur motioned for him to sit down next to him, so he could catch his breath back.

"Nations in their own country can move incredibly quickly, and without tiring. All nations know this, me and Francis just hadn't got round to telling you that," he smiled, "for obvious reasons, if Alfred even had a hint he could do that, we'd never see him again."

Enticed by this new piece of knowledge Matthew promised never to Alfred, at least until he thought Alfred was mature enough to control his adventurous spirit.

"Also" Arthur continued, looking a little excited himself, "you must promise never to tell anyone this, as far as I know only me and Francis' friend Prussia know this. We've been allies in a lot of wars..."

Getting up again, Matthew did the same, Arthur grinned, "A nation can grant another a temporary free leash in their country to move as fast as they can. It's useful in alliances because it means that other nations can come to their allies side if they need them, whereas the invading nation has to move at human speed," looking pleased with himself, Arthur looked down at Matthew for his reaction.

"Why are you telling me this?" The Canadian looked surprised and flattered, "because I know you won't tell, and it will make our walking holiday easier. Grant me permission and I can show you the best places in your country."

Not sure quite what to do, Matthew just spoke the shy words, "I grant you permission (?)"

Immediately, Arthur's energy seemed to flow back through him; he reached out to take Matthew's hand, "where shall we go first?"

_**Author's note: Sorry this chapter is so short compared to the others, it just seemed like a good place to end a chapter, plus I have writer's block. School does that to you...**_


	12. Chapter 12

Francis fell down into his chair, burying his head in his hands. Usually Arthur was here to keep control, so he could be as lax as he wanted, but with Arthur gone, he just didn't know how to handle them.

Alfred had escaped twice yesterday, and Bruce was tearing down the house around him. Kaoru and Chelles remained obedient as usual, but they were usually like that.

He felt embarrassed; that was the worst of it. Because he didn't want Arthur to come back and see he was incapable of doing something so simple, also the Brit would be furious with him if something fragile got broken.

Giving up, at least for now, Francis just shoved the children outside and went to go and think about Arthur in the Bathroom.

The moment Francis was gone, Alfred fell into a pout, "Matty had better be getting back soon, it's boring here without him!"

"I feel bad, papa looks so stressed..." Chelles bit her lip guiltily, "but mum and Matthew get back tommorow evening right..."

Bruce nodded, "I kind of miss the British prat scolding us at least once an hour..."

The kids stayed in reflective silence for a few minuets, before forgetting about it and running off to play.

Alfred, unusually was the only one that didn't. A strange feeling had shot into his chest, and all he'd done was think about Matthew. Now it felt like there was heat spreading to every part of his body, was he ill?

Without completely processing what he was doing, Alfred ran back into the house, rushing to the first bathroom door. Whatever sick thing Francis was doing, he was probably doing it in his own bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, he let his trousers drop.

He was hard down there.

Opening his mouth in panic, Alfred reached down to touch it. The moment he did so, a rush of pleasure went through his body, spreading like heat.

He heard himself mumble Matthew's name, when he touched himself again.

Not really sure why, he suddenly wanted to stick this strange hardened member right into the other boy, he wanted to see Matthew on his back.

Francis had explained to them a long time ago, how sex worked for heterosexual and homosexual couples- of course Arthur had locked him out of the house all night when he found out.

Francis had told them that sex was only for people who were mature enough to understand it, but how long was that?

He didn't want to have to wait, he wanted Matthew right now.

Running his hand a little more frantically along himself, he closed his eyes, imagining doing the same to Matthew. Would he grow hard as well?

A moan slipped from his mouth when something began to run out of the tip; he began moving his hand quicker. Matthew's name was on the tip of his tongue every time.

With one final powerful movement, a white liquid shot from his length, splattering on the floor. Everything was bliss, then Alfred began to look around at the mess.

Whatever had come out of him was not only on the floor, it had also hit the sink and rug. A little bit was stuck to his thighs as well.

"Francis!" He shouted through the house, feeling his face heat up. He pulled up his underwear, kicking his trousers off.

There was quite a long pause, then Francis opened the door.

"What is it..." He trailed off, seeing the state of the room and what was dripping down the inside of the young American nation's leg. Sighing, Francis walked in, beginning to run a bath. He also folded up the carpet for cleaning later.

"Sorry..." Alfred apologised, he didn't like feeling embarrassed.

"Non, it doesn't matter" Francis laughed, "but you can clean the floor and sink yourself, put your clothes outside the door, and I'll wash them."

Now Alfred felt relieved Arthur wasn't here and it was only Francis. The French nation just understood these things better.

Then a sudden thought occurred to him. "Francis..." He rang his fingers, looking at the floor while Francis continued to run the bath, "what I was just doing now... Were you doing it and thinking about Arthur?"

Alfred swore that he heard Francis splutter with surprise, the French nation's face was also turned a light red, but Alfred didn't mention it.

"Who were you thinking about?" Francis changed the subject.

"M-Matty..." Alfred swallowed. He only said it, because he often thought he caught Francis seeming almost hostile and threatening towards him sometimes when talking about these things. He'd even begun to see it whenever he mentioned Arthur's name to the Frenchman.

Any hostility that had been in the air was gone, and Francis was grinning, "Ah, just you wait until young Matthieu is ready for things like that before you spring him."

"I will" Alfred nodded. He wanted Francis to leave so he could get rid of the embarrassing, and rather uncomfortable wetness around his thighs.

Nodding, and seeming to understand, Francis left, closing the door behind him.

Pulling off the remainder of his clothes, he slunk into the bath.

What was Francis problem?

Obviously, Alfred had ideas of what he wanted to do to Matthew, but the way Francis looked at him, it was almost like he thought Alfred wanted to do those things to Arthur.

The very thought made him shiver slightly, but then a small tick knocked against his head. A horrid thought, entered his mind for a moment. Alfred dismissed it, he wanted Matthew too much.

Letting the warm water spread over his shoulder, he let his mind trail back over his memories of watching Matthew change into his pyjamas, he had a wonderful slim body, but it wasn't weak like Arthur's. But still delicate enough to make Alfred want to press him down on his bed (The larger of the two).

Maybe Matthew was mature enough, he just didn't say because he didn't think Alfred was.

Licking his lips, Alfred began to clean his hair. Perhaps he should tell Matthew about this when he got back.

Pausing from his grooming, a sense of guilt slipped into his chest. No. Matthew liked him, he was almost sure of that; but there was no way his sweet little Matthew was ready for something as violent as Francis made it sound. The last thing he wanted do was hurt him.

Rinsing his soapy head in the water, he clambered out of the bath, pulling a towel around himself.

What about a kiss...

When he'd woken after his accident Arthur and Francis had been kissing, they both seemed to be enjoying that; and if Matthew was right and they hadn't slept together, that proved that he could still touch Matthew without hurting him.

Grinning, Alfred rubbed himself dry, before tightening the towel in a tight knot around his waist and heading to his room to pull on some new clothes.

He knew exactly what he was going to do when the Canadian got back.

_**Author's note: Again we have a ridiculously short chapter, and for that I apologise, but school started up again, and we're being given more work than ever, so I'm struggling to find long amounts of time for the fic. This means updates may be a little slower, and chapters might be shorter.**_


	13. Chapter 13

"So, have you enjoyed yourself?" Arthur leaned back in the grass, watching Matthew pet his country's various animals.

"Yes, thank you for taking me" Matthew grinned, lifting up one of the beavers, and snuggling it close to his chest. He paused before looking up, "Do we have to go back today?"

Laughing, Arthur sat up and nodded, "Remember what Francis said, besides, Alfred's probably missing you."

Matthew blushed, bringing the beaver's brown fur around his face.

Stretching and getting to his feet, Arthur beckoned towards the boy, "We should probably get going now, will you grant me permission to move freely in your country?"

Grinning Matthew but the beaver down. It felt good to hear the words; this was _his _country. These were _his _animals.

"I give you permission," he'd grown used to this phrase over the last few days. It seemed like his permission only lasted a day at most.

"We'll begin at normal pace on the hill we first departed from," Arthur clapped his hands together, preparing to move, "just remember you promised you wouldn't tell anyone about this,"

"I remember" Matthew nodded, "But I don't understand why you don't tell anyone."

The Brit just shrugged before indicating that they should go.

It didn't take them long to reach the hill where they'd first started their tour, and the train station was in sight.

"What time is the train?" Matthew asked, beginning the walk with Arthur down the hill back towards the city below.

"Should be here in about an hour, we'll be home before you know it," the Brit smiled. Even though he'd never admit it, he'd been missing Francis every moment he'd been away from him.

But the trip had gone by without any problems, now they were almost home. Just a train journey and a bit of waiting.

Reaching the station, they found it crowded with passengers waiting to depart for America.

"Do you really think Alfred is missing me?" Matthew's cheeks flushed pink, and his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Of course," Arthur patted the boy's head, "the moment we get in the door, he's going to be all over you..." The Brit's own cheeks coloured when he realised what he'd just said, "...That's... I'm not saying you and Alfred are ready for that, you're far too young..."

Matthew blinked his violet eyes innocently at Arthur, "you mean sex?"

"So you remembered that explanation that Francis gave you..." Sighing, Arthur shook his head, giving a small smile; at least he didn't have to explain.

"Alfred hasn't said anything about how he feels, he can't be thinking about sex already," Matthew squeezed Arthur's hand reassuringly, "what about you and Francis?"

Smirking, the English nation ruffled Matthew's hair, knowing how much he hated it; "that is none of your business."

Smoothing his hair down, Matthew feigned a look of hurt.

Their train was pulling up to the station, and passengers were already beginning to move towards the compartment doors.

Matthew and Arthur walked with the other passengers, hoping to find a compartment with a bit more space this time.

Thankfully the train didn't seem to be as full as it had been on their way to America, so they only had to share with an elderly woman and her grandson.

Matthew had someone to talk to, that stopped him getting bored and wondering off, and Arthur could talk with the old lady. He needed to practise his gentleman techniques, and the house where he was usually shut up never gave him any excuse to use them.

"Are you going away from home, or going back?" He smiled,

"Me and my grandson are going back home" the woman nodded, "Hopefully his parents have sorted out their problem by now," she gave a long sigh.

Both her and Arthur glanced at the thin young boy that was listening to Matthew's stories about Canada.

"So do his parents argue a lot?" Arthur felt a guilty pang in his chest, clenching his fists on his lap.

"Unfortunately yes," the woman nodded, "It's not good for their son, he gets upset about it a lot..."

Arthur bit his lip. Did the kids mind that he and Francis argued a lot, he'd always taken it for granted that they'd just dismiss it as their Nation's nature, but what if it really did upset them...

Matthew looked happy enough now, and he'd seemed happy during their days in Canada, but it was obvious he was missing Alfred too, and he'd often wondered about Francis and the others too.

Still... Arthur couldn't help but wonder how much longer he and Francis would be able to hold onto the kids, it was obvious that they were now growing fast.

He was sure that in the time they'd been in Canada, Matthew had grown by at least another year. His voice seemed a little lower, and he was taller and skinnier.

Maybe they really would grow to be taller than Arthur himself, possibly even taller than Francis.

The old lady soon drifted off to sleep, and Matthew and her grandson soon after.

Knowing the journey would pass further if he slept as well, Arthur settled down in the uncomfortable seat.

"We're here," it felt like mere moments later when Matthew was shaking him awake.

Rubbing his eyes and sitting up quickly, Arthur glanced out of the window. They were indeed at the station.

Picking up the bags from under the seats, both of them hurried out of their compartment, and onto the station, looking around for their family.

No sign of them.

Matthew looked a little disappointed, but he shrugged, "maybe Alfred's slowing them up, we could start walking back and meet them on the way."

Nodding, Arthur patted his shoulder, "Walking slower?"

The Canadian nodded, with a sad little smile, "yeah, but I don't mind; and don't worry I won't tell Alfred about the permission thing."

Even from town they could see their home on the far hill in the north, it wouldn't take them long to get out of town and be on the road home.

Arthur had wanted to see Francis again the moment he got off the train, but he supposed Francis was probably struggling alone with all the children.

They were coming up to the edge of the town, Matthew yawned, stretching his arms. Arthur almost offered to carry him, but then he realised he probably couldn't carry the boy any more.

"I'd have thought your _friend _would be keeping you indoors."

Arthur and Matthew froze, squinting through their quickly darkening surroundings.

Smith grinned at them.

"So how old are you anyway?" He took a step closer, eyes fixed unshifting on Arthur, "you looks so young yet you seem so old..." He paused when he was only a meter away.

Before Arthur could even get a grip on his tongue, Matthew spoke, "Go away!" He snapped, feeling himself flare up like he had when Chelles was being threatened by this man's sons.

"Careful Matthew," Arthur pulled him back, a worried tone in his voice, "Do you need something? Because if not can you let us pass."

Smith only grinned, flicking his thumb and forefinger under Arthur's chin, using it to lift the Brit's face so they were facing each other. "How about we discuss all this back at my house, my sons are out of town with their mother."

Feeling a bolt shoot up his spine, Arthur slapped him back, taking Matthew's hand quickly, and pushing past in the direction of the house, surely they only had a few hundred meters to go now.

Smith grabbed hold of his shoulder in a choking grip, pulling him over backwards.

Managing to move his body in the right way, Arthur broke Matthew's fall as the two of them tumbled to the dusty ground.

"Are you okay Arthur?" Matthew got off the Brit's chest quickly, offering him a hand to help him up, then lowering his voice to a whisper he suggested, "let's make a run for it..."

There was a sharp crack, the Canadian's eyes widened then he fell to the ground a bloody wound on his head.

Struggling in his panic to locate the obvious attacker, Arthur turned his head only to feel a similar collision on the back of his own head.

-::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::-

"For Dieu sake Alfred hurry up!" Francis shouted down the hall, trying to make Bruce stand still just long enough for him to pull the coat over him.

The Australian had caught a cold after he'd climbed out of bedroom window last night and slept in the garden, it would be good to have Arthur back again.

Alfred had been fretting around in his room for hours, Francis had no idea what he was doing. The occasional thump almost brought Francis to the door to find out exactly what was happening but one of the others always needed his attention.

"I'll be there in a minuet!" Alfred shouted back irritably for the tenth time in the last hour.

Rolling his eyes, Francis patted Chelles into her own coat, at least she behaved herself. Why did Arthur have to take one of the only obedient kids, next time couldn't he take Bruce 'Waltzing Matilda' or take Kaoru to see Hong Kong; or even better he could take Alfred out somewhere and lose him.

Another crash from Alfred's room was the last straw.

"Alfred if you don't get here now, then I'm coming in there!"

There was a shout of annoyance, but Alfred appeared a few seconds later, insisting on pulling on his own coat in a sulky manner.

"What were you doing?" Chelles asked politely, with a hint of curiosity.

"None of your business!" The American snapped, much to the horror of Francis.

"Alfred you do not ever treat a lady like that" he scolded, "now let's go."

By now, Arthur and Matthew were probably the only ones left at the station, Francis hoped Arthur wouldn't be too angry with him.

Alfred insisted on running ahead as always. He was quickly getting the hang of being able to move quickly and freely through his own country.

The American bolted down the hill, digging in his heels when he passed over the mud to slide down even faster.

He was pretty much at the bottom of the hill when something drew him to a sickening and sudden halt. He felt like he'd just run into a brick wall.

Looking around quickly, Alfred poked his foot around in the mud; almost jumping out of his skin when it made contact with something.

The something gave a pained moan.

"Matty!" Alfred bent down by the form in the mud, feeling over the other boy's body for any brakes, "Oh God, are you okay? What happened?"

The other boy managed to open his eyes a fraction, his lip trembling.

"That man, the one from the toy shop, tell Francis..." He broke off, tears falling down his eyes, and a hand going to his messy curls, "I-I think my head's bleeding..."

By this point Francis had caught up to them.

"Matty's hurt!" Alfred sobbed, stroking the dirty hair from Matthew's pale face, "he said something about the man from the toy shop..."

In the half light, Alfred saw Francis' eyes flash. Making the way that Alfred sometimes caught Francis looking at him seem like a friendly gesture.

"Alfred take Matthew and the others home, clean up Matthew's head as well as you can, me and Arthur will be back soon."

Nodding, Alfred swallowed, Francis only ever called Matthew by his English name if he was either scared or really angry.

Francis spun on his heel, before sprinting down the road.

Adjusting his arms under Matthew's body, Alfred managed to lift him in his arms. He was lighter than Alfred had imagined. He supposed he'd been expected something a little more similar to his own weight.

"What's happening?" Chelles whimpered, looking with panicked eyes at the blood that was dripping from the wound in the back of Matthew's head.

"We need to get back to the house and clean Matty up, Francis will take care of the rest," Alfred felt the authority in his tone, and he meant every word of it.

Somehow Alfred already felt older than the others he'd grown up with.

Perhaps he was...

"I-I missed you..." Matthew's voice was slurred and soft when he spoke, pressing his face against Alfred's chest.

The American felt his heart rate increase, almost certain that Matthew had heard the change.

"Don't talk, I'll take care of you," he was struggling to keep himself calm now, emotion seemed to be spilling from every part of him, "I wanted tonight to be special, I was going to tell you..." He choked, biting his lip.

"Tell me what?" Matthew's eyes looked up at him with a faint eagerness,

"That I love you."


	14. Chapter 14

Francis paused, looking around him.

Where the hell did that bastard live!

Gritting his teeth, Francis pressed on; trying to sense the feeling of another nation. Arthur's was always stronger than the children's, in fact his scent always seemed to be stronger than most nations. Spain was probably the nation that came closest to Arthur.

-:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::-

Blinking awake, Arthur found only darkness awaiting him. For a moment he panicked. Had he gone blind?

Then he felt the tightness around his eyes and behind his head, meaning he must have been blindfolded.

Trying to piece together what had happened, he became uncomfortably aware of the rope that held his wrists against something wooden, his ankles were also bound together, but he could still adjust his legs so he could sit a little more comfortably.

He couldn't really tell, not being able to see messed up his senses a lot, but to his relief it felt like he still had all his clothes on.

"Where am I?" He demanded of the darkness, squirming his legs, trying to locate what sort of place he was in.

The ground was hard, but with a polished feel. That meant he was probably on the floor of someone's house. The wooden pole he was tied to felt like it was attached to something bigger, because whenever he leant back he could feel a wooden board against the back of his head.

No one answered his question. It certainly felt like he was alone.

Struggling he tried to slacken the blindfold, but it was to no avail. So he began to shift his wrists instead, maybe he'd have more luck with the rope.

The rough material was cutting into his writs, but he could feel his bounds beginning to loosen.

He was about to give a final pull when a heavy foot pressed against his chest, forcing him against the pole, digging his back against the sharp edges.

"Worked your self free have you bastard?" Smith's voice was smooth and amused, bending his foot so it was now his heel pressing over Arthur's chest.

Gasping for air, Arthur managed to work his hands free, reaching them out to pull the blindfold from his eyes. Another hand caught his in mid-air.

"Not so fast you son of a bitch," Smith bent his own arm, twisting the Brit's wrist painfully, not satisfied till he heard a firm snap, and cry of pain from the blond beneath him. "Do you want me to brake the other one, or are you going to do as you're told?"

Managing to locate the voice, Arthur spat at him, hoping he caught him somewhere in the face.

The annoyed growl told him that he'd hit his target.

The hand came out again, this time slamming the side of his head against the wooden pole. By now Arthur had realised it was probably a bed post.

A firm, biting mouth pressed against his, leaving his lips aching and bruised.

Flicking out his tongue, Arthur tasted blood to the right of his lower lip.

"He'll come and kill you," speaking in a clear, unworried tone, Arthur kicked against the form standing above him, "you just wait, and I hope he does it slowly."

Smith gave a sound of laughter, bending down and kneeling hard between Arthur's legs. "I've got my shot gun on my side, the moment I see him I'll shoot him dead,"

Chuckling, Arthur tried to move his broken wrist, but it seemed the bone still hadn't healed, "Good luck with that I've been trying for years."

Smith seemed to be growing with impatience. He forced his uncaring mouth against Arthur's already abused lips again, driving his tongue down the other's throat. Not being one to stand for that sort of thing, Arthur bit down on his tongue, pleased when the iron taste told him that he'd drawn blood.

It was worth the slap round the face.

A hand suddenly ripped the blindfold from his eyes.

Even though everything in the room was dark, a lamp glowing faintly in the corner of the bedroom was enough to stun him for a moment, as light was returned to the world.

He hesitated just long enough for the blindfold to be fixed this time as a gag.

Exclaiming in shock the moment it was fixed over his mouth, Arthur tried to push it away with his tongue, but it had been tied in double knots, tangled in his hair so it hurt every time he moved.

"That's better" Smith grinned, flashing a smile at the Brit, "Keep your ugly mouth shut," he caught Arthur under the chin, tilting him so he could kiss the skin above his eyes.

Smith frowned, obviously feeling Arthur's oversized eyebrows.

He only paused a moment, before drawing a knife from his pocket, baring the blade against Arthur's face, letting the sharp metal trace up his neck to his eyebrows.

"Let's deal with this problem first..." Using the very point of the blade he cut down from the top of one of Arthur's eyebrows down to just above his eyelid.

Hissing in pain, Arthur knew he eyebrows wouldn't disappear just like that; he himself had tried everything to get rid of them, but the truth of it was, they were part of him.

Smith was certainly confused by the fact all the hairs were still firmly attached, even though blood was flowing freely from the cut.

Knowing what was coming this time, Arthur braced himself for the next slices above his eyes.

"What sort of witchcraft is this! ?" Smith seized the back of his hair in his fist, angling Arthur's head for better aim.

Arthur let his defiant emerald eyes blink back, glowing through the blood and the darkness like beacons.

"You're a whore!" Smith snapped, jumping to his feet and kicking the Brit hard in the chest, not stopping until Arthur felt blood being driven up his throat.

Trying to gasp, he found his airway trapped by the gag and blood in his throat. He was drowning for a moment.

His eyes widened in the struggle, trying to loosen the gag just enough for the blood to trickle from his lips.

Smith gathered what was going on because he tore it away, moving away for Arthur to cough up his insides on the floor.

What was taking Francis so long?

Now panic was setting in. What if Francis found him too late!

Arthur had been thinking long and hard about this while he was in Canada. If he was giving himself to anyone, it would be to the one that had protected him for so long. He didn't want that plan to fail now.

Once his airway was clear again, Arthur felt hands tearing at his shirt, running over his bare skin, nails digging and gripping everywhere they passed over.

"I don't know what it is about you" Smith smirked, biting down on his neck, over the mark that Francis had left, "you are a whole, you're temptation from the devil, you're eyes are like the story my grandfather told me."

Blinking back tears and an arch of pain when Smith's hands found their way over a knife again, and along his neck.

"A man from Spain, that's what my grandfather said. He fought like a demon, fighting amongst the other soldiers with a long silver scythe. My family came from California."

Arthur took a mental note to kill Spain when he saw him again.

Spain was a monster in battle, and he couldn't control it.

"Shouldn't you be fighting back against temptation then!" Arthur growled, bending away from the blade, "let me go, or I'll kill you myself!"

Smith found this hilarious, cupping his hand down Arthur's trousers, too tightly for comfort. "You kill me? You need to be fucked and taught some respect!"

For a moment there was pure fear in the English nation's emerald green eyes, then he smiled, relaxing all over, and slowly closing his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Smith's voice sounded hesitant.

"Did he tell you I'd kill you?" Francis' voice was low and sharp like a cat's.

All around him, Arthur could hear the sounds of battle. An old nation. He could feel the flames, and smell the blood. What Smith could now see, he could only imagine.

His body trembled all over; he'd never felt so much off Francis before, he could even hear a rooster sounding in the back of his head. A Gallic Rooster.

"What the hell!" Smith's voice broke into a frightened cry, then there was a bursting sound, and a faint gargle, finally a thump.

Breathing in deeply, but keeping his eyes shut, Arthur felt a cold hand passing over his own heart. He waited patiently for it to pass.

The cold touch was gone. In its place, Arthur felt warm soft lips against his, moving slowly so as to avoid the bruising.

"Do you love me?" Francis questioned, hands running over the Brit's injuries with a twitch of disgust and anger.

"I love you" Arthur nodded, opening his eyes slowly, not even letting them drift to the dead man on the floor, "of course I love you."

Francis beamed, a pleased twinkle in his blue eyes. But he still seemed distressed by Arthur's injuries.

"Just let me get your legs free then we'll go back and treat your wounds,"

"You make it sound like I've been on a battlefield," Arthur chuckled, though he was pleased to have free use of his legs again. Then he remembered, "is Matthew okay?"

"He's fine" Francis reassured him, "Alfred's taking care of him."

Despite the Englishman's protests, Francis sweeped his arms underneath the light young man, lifting him off his feet.

"The rope cut into your ankles too, I don't want you walking on them till I've cleaned them" Francis explained. Rubbing his hand as fast as he dared along Arthur's back, trying to warm him up.

"I'm fine, let's just get back," Arthur waved him off, leaning up to kiss the bottom of Francis' chin.

Bending his head, Francis caught the Brit's lips in a meaningful kiss before he could pull back. He could feel his own body shaking all over when he looked at his lover's body.

There was blood clotting in his hair from the injury to his head, and the knife wounds round his eyes. Arthur's bloody neck made him almost sick, and that was before he even took note of the wrists and ankles.

He felt the English nation flinch in the kiss. His lips were bruised as well.

"I knew Canada was a bad idea" he finally managed to mumble, "I shouldn't have let you and Matthew go..."

"Matthew loved it" Arthur assured him, "but, maybe next time we could all go."

When they got back to the house, Francis paused briefly with Arthur in his arms to check that Alfred had cleaned Matthew's head properly.

All the kids looked shocked to see the state of the Brit. Arthur felt it. He was a proud nation, and hated feeling pity shot in his direction.

So with all the strength he currently had left, he gave the side of Francis' ribcage a firm kick, indicating that they should leave.

The Frenchman grunted, wincing a little, but he got the message.

"We need to clean you up," he moved slowly to their bedroom, before setting him down carefully on the bed. "Your wrist looks broken," he held out his hand.

Hesitating for a moment, Arthur hesitantly held out his limp wrist.

He closed his eyes when he felt Francis' firm hands take hold of it; inhaling sharply when with a painful snap it was moved back into place, but he felt the bone beginning to repair itself almost immediately.

Next, Francis got up, heading to the bathroom. Returning about a minuet later with a small basin of water and a towel, proceeding to dampen the towel, and dab it gently around Arthur's eyes, cleaning away the blood.

"One of these days I'll get myself out of trouble" Arthur couldn't help but grumble, biting his lip when the towel's rough material ran over one of his sensitive healing slashes.

When he was clean, and the wounds were beginning to repair themselves, Francis put the basin and towel down.

The French nation looked away, still looking distressed. "How long do you think it'll take for your bruises to heal?"

Absentmindedly, Arthur touched his lips, then let his hand drift under his shirt. The bruises still hurt, but they were probably healing. They had to look at least a few days old to make Francis turn away like that.

"Francis..." Arthur's cheeks were beginning to burn as he lent towards the Frenchman.

Francis turned slowly towards him, a blush reaching his own cheeks.

"I... I want to have sex with you," he hated how desperate he sounded, and he felt like he was begging; surely he didn't have to do that to make Francis sleep with him.

"No," Francis' words were so stern they stung for a moment.

"Why not?" Arthur let out an annoyed sound. Why did Francis choose to sound so saintlike when Arthur actually asked him to do something.

"Look at you, haven't you been through enough tonight!" Covering his face with his hands, Francis breathed in deeply, "can't we wait for another night, when your better?"

"I'll be better in a few minuets, I want you to have sex with me tonight!" He tried to stir a reaction from Francis with a kiss, but the Frenchman wouldn't even open his mouth for him.

Francis pressed both his hands against Arthur's shoulders and held him away. "No, means No!"

_**Author's note: Next chapter will be an M, so look forward to it~**_

_**I also have a request from everyone. I'm working on a countdown of the best Hetalia videos on Youtube, and am asking for votes on 190 set videos, I would really love it if you could all vote on your favourites. Thank you~**_

_**www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=0zEhAGPCCl0**_


	15. Chapter 15

Arthur gave a small growl, "I'll make you" he whispered, his voice hardly audible.

Sighing, Francis got off the bed, "and with that last statement, I'm sleeping in the sitting room."

Moving in an act of desperation, the Brit seized Francis' arm, holding it close to his chest. "Please Francis, I want you to, before someone else does..." For the first time in his life, he willed whatever this 'aroma' was, out of of every part of his body.

"Arthur..." Francis hesitated, then laughed lightly, "you know that trick doesn't work on me, I'm immune to it remember... But..." He let his eyes flick quickly over Arthur's vulnerable form, "I do love you..."

Arthur moved back to let Francis sit down next to him on the bed again. The Frenchman still seemed unsure, so Arthur didn't say anything, he just let Francis' imaginings run wild for a minuet.

Then Francis leaned carefully forwards, meeting the Englishman for a kiss, still planning out what he was going to do next. On one hand Arthur was asking him to, and he did really want to; but on the other, should he be doing this on a night after the Brit had just been through something traumatic, what if he wasn't thinking straight?

His thoughts were brought quickly to a close when the English nation's hands began to work at the buttons on his shirt, catching his fingers every now and then in his rush.

Giving in, he let Arthur finish, shrugging off the piece of clothing.

"Do you really want this?" He decided to asked just once more.

"Stop asking!" The Brit pulled back, looking hurt and angry, "stop pushing me back, or pretending I'm not here! You're meant to be the world's greatest lover aren't you! Well then, do something!"

Throwing his body forwards, Francis pinned Arthur beneath him on the bed, bending the Brit's face to get a better angle at his neck; licking and sucking every piece of unmarked pale skin.

He felt excitement growing in his lower regions when the Englishman shivered beneath him, whispering his name amongst faint gasps.

"I love you" Arthur breathed, moving his face, kissing Francis with as much perfection as he could manage after the few days of practise.

"Je t'aime" Francis replied, lifting the Brit onto his lap, practically pulling the shirt apart as he did. Exposing Arthur's slim figure, and delicate looking body.

He wanted to be gentle, but at the same time, he wanted to take every part of the smaller nation.

Catching Arthur's already red lips in another deep kiss, he flicked his fingers over one of the hardened nipples, finishing the kiss so he could move his mouth down to join his fingers.

Arthur's body was trembling all over with nerves and excitement; eager, but hesitant at the same time.

Feeling limp and useless, Arthur could only moan and gasp in response to Francis' touches. He'd never felt anything quite like it before.

Finally catching a little control over himself, he managed to mutter, "please..." hoping Francis knew what he meant.

Thankfully the Frenchman seemed to understand what he was indicating at, because a small smile flecked over his face.

Arthur held his breath as Francis' hand slipped inside his trousers, palming his pressing need over his boxers, feeling it growing even harder under his fingers.

The impatient Brit was practically kicking his own trousers off, arching his back, to try and create more friction between the fingers and himself, his cheeks fixed in a blush, green eyes shining with lust.

Sparing the other from his teasing, Francis edged off the boxers with the last bit of the trousers, seizing the erection and pumping along the length with little hesitation between the two.

"God!~" Arthur choked on his words, curling up his body against the Frenchman, clinging at the bedsheets with his thin fingers.

Smirking with satisfaction, the Frenchman edged his mouth closer to the tip, till his warm breath was washing over it.

"Enough teasing," Arthur bit his lip, "Please do something,"

"As you wish," Francis lowered his mouth over the erection, running his tongue along the tip and along the base.

With a sudden flinch, Arthur felt himself release a little pre-cum through the Frenchman's working mouth.

"S-Sorry" he stammered when Francis gave a small sound of surprise.

"No, it's fine cher," lifting himself so they were face to face again, the French nation continued his hand movement, but fixed their lips together, slipping his tongue as deep as it could go; gracing Arthur's own tongue with his teeth. "I like your taste."

Blushing, the Englishman, seized hold of Francis' hair, when, with a jerk he released into the other nation's hand, and over the bedsheets.

"I hope none of the kids have nightmares and come through here" Francis hummed against the Brit's neck, smiling.

"W-What next?" Arthur's cheeks had darkened even more so, almost instinctively tensing, when he felt Francis' fingers near his entrance.

Thinking quickly, Francis lifted his fingers to his own lips first, swirling his tongue round them, till they were completely drenched and lubricated.

Pulling the Brit onto his lap, he held him comfortingly as he pressed the first digit inside the tight entrance.

Letting out a sharp wail, Arthur clung to the Frenchman, tears flowing from his eyes.

Francis pecked a quick kiss on the top of the messy blond head that was buried in his chest.

Moving on quickly, he pushed the second finger in to join the first, spreading them out. The last thing he wanted was for this to be painful for the trembling male nation on his lap.

Brushing his fingers around, he waited for Arthur's sharp gasp to tell him he'd found the right place.

Sure enough it came.

"Francis!~" Arthur's head whipped back, his mouth open in amazement. For a moment his vision was blurred.

Just as he was recovering from that, Francis touched the same spot.

Arthur didn't even notice the third and final finger move up to join the others.

He did however grunt in annoyance when Francis' fingers pulled back.

"Ready cher?" Francis asked, carefully sweeping a stray hair from Arthur's face.

Nodding, Arthur tried not to tense again and ruin all of Francis' hard work, "I'm ready."

Francis was kicking off his own trousers, placing Arthur down on the bed beneath him, full of love and worry as he adjusted himself inside.

More tears were leaking from those green eyes, but the Englishman kept his mouth shut, turning his face into the pillow, to restrict his cries.

Waiting until Arthur relaxed again, Francis began to move; slowly at first, then his own lust got the better of him. He lowered himself so he and Arthur were closer together, increasing the pace every moment.

Arthur moaned and moved beneath him, coming up to meet his thrusts.

There mouths meshed together in an informal heap, pulling at the others lips and moaning in hums against each other.

"F-Faster~" Arthur's words were coming as gasps, his every need craving the Frenchman.

Obeying, Francis began to rock his hips harder and faster, taking hold off the Brit's thighs to bring them to meet the increased speed.

At first Arthur cried out again, a look of pain crossing his features, but it had soon passed when Francis began to aim for the prostate.

With his free hand he began to pump at Arthur's re-erected member.

"Francis I'm going to cum," the Brit choked on his last words, bolting his body forwards as released.

Feeling Arthur's body tiring beneath him, the Frenchman bent down to kiss him again, before releasing himself inside the Englishman.

Arthur fell down on the bed, exhausted, and panting.

Removing his dripping member, Francis lay down beside him, holding the Brit's body close to him, "Je t'aime,"

"I know."

-::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::-

"I think I'm okay now," Matthew sat up, rubbing his head, "It's not bleeding any more, and you did a good job cleaning it up." A look of worry passed through the Canadian, "I hope Arthur's okay..."

"Francis will take care of him" Alfred shrugged, bringing the back of his hand up, to gently run it along the side of Matthew's face.

The Canadian didn't pull away, though he did look surprised.

"Alfred?"

The American's face was close to his. Blue eyes baring into violet ones.

Giving up on waiting for an answer, Matthew felt himself leaning forwards, to mirror Alfred's movements.

They were so close now, he could feel the American's breath, and even the brushing of the other's nose.

Cautiously they met in the middle.

First the kiss was simple and innocent, then Alfred pressed his tongue against Matthew's closed mouth.

The Canadian parted his lips with a gasp, giving Alfred the chance to seize his face in both hands and deepen the kiss.

Matthew felt his heart beating fast, emotions rushing through his body in such numbers he thought he'd explode. Every sensation was new to him, but he welcomed it like it was natural to him.

Moving backwards, Alfred was directing them towards their bedroom.

The Canadian didn't even realise exactly where he was until Alfred was above him on his bed, pausing from the kiss so they could catch their breath.

"I love you Matty" Alfred whispered, closing his eyes, and slowly bending his head for a slower kiss.

Matthew accepted it happily, blushing when he felt something hard against his leg.

"A-Al, should we be doing this right now?" He hesitated, pulling away from the kiss against the pillow.

The American flushed looking guilty. He got off Matthew immediately, hanging his head. "S-Sorry" he stammered, "you're right, Francis said we're too young anyway..."

Matthew studied his own and Alfred's body. They looked about fourteen now. They were growing fast at the moment.

"Since when has what Francis and Arthur told you stopped you doing anything?" Sitting up on the edge of the bed, Matthew crossed his fingers over his lap.

"It's not just them I'm disobeying..." Alfred crawled back onto the bed, clutching at the Canadian's hand, "I don't want to force you to do anything..."

Biting his lip, Matthew made a split second decision.

"Let's sleep together," his voice was tiny. Most people would have missed it; but it was exactly what the American was hoping for.

Smiling, Alfred kissed the other boy again, lowering him down on the bed, moving in a rush of hands to undress the squirming nation between him.

He leant back to examine Matthew's naked body. It was everything like he'd imagined it.

The Canadian blushed, trying to cover himself with both hands.

"How do we do it?" Matthew mumbled, looking nervous, "I can't remember what Francis told me."

Alfred thought quickly, trying to recall the conversation they had with Francis years ago. He'd mentioned something about inserting yourself inside the other.

Blushing, Alfred could feel his pressing need inside his trousers. It sounded simple enough.

"I put it in you" he explained to the Canadian, indicating his lower regions, Matthew immediately paled, curling his legs protectively around himself.

He himself was hard, but didn't know what to do about it.

Alfred was shifting his own trousers off, holding his erection against Matthew's entrance hesitantly.

"You look so tight, I'm not sure it will fit..."

Matthew trembled, "Francis said something about fingers..." Matthew shivered, just thinking it brought him pain.

He wasn't sure what was willing him on to sex. It sound so painful, but he wanted to do this with Alfred; there must be some enjoyment in it.

Matthew heard himself moan when one of Alfred fingers was pressed inside him. The American had stabbed at something that made him see stars.

The American looked amazed at the effect his finger had, because he shifted it again against the same spot, watching Matthew moan and gasp.

"Alfred~" He whispered, his eyes damp but lustful.

The entrance still didn't look wide enough, so Alfred added his second finger.

That made Matthew cry out, but soon he was panting again when Alfred touched that place.

He was beginning to feel a little left out.

Retreating his fingers, he deemed the entrance wide enough for him.

Struggling for an angle, his lifted Matthew's hip, kneeling to line them up.

Matthew closed his eyes when they made contact, moaning Alfred's name, and choking back tears. He looked in so much pain that Alfred almost pulled back out again.

Then he began to rock his hips, trying to find that place he'd found earlier that had spiked such a reaction from the other boy.

"Do you love me Matty?" Alfred couldn't help but ask, shifting his hips a little faster, locating the spot when Matthew moaned loudly.

"Of course I love you" Matthew gasped, clutching at the bed sheets, and squeezing his eyes tightly closed. He felt his own erection give a twitch and he cummed into the air; discomfited by the fact it was now dripping over his middle.

"Me too," Alfred gave a short grunt, then Matthew felt himself being filled.

He threw back his head on the pillow, grateful when Alfred let his hips drop.

They kissed once more, before curling up beside each other and drifting off into a satisfied sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Breakfast passed by awkwardly the next morning.

Both Matthew and Arthur kept shuffling on their seats like they were uncomfortable.

Alfred kept his eyes on his breakfast and refused to make eye contact with anybody; though there was an odd sense of happiness about him, that roused Francis' suspicions even if nobody else had noticed it.

"What's wrong Alfred?" Francis sighed, he had a pretty good idea what had happened, however much he'd warned the young American against it.

But Matthew didn't look unhappy, so Francis could only gather that he'd consented and enjoyed it.

"I'm fine" Alfred replied, possibly a little to quickly, his cheeks reddening.

Francis just hummed in response; he'd talk to the kid later. The breakfast table was really no place for discussions like this.

And it really looked like Alfred was going to respect this silence for a moment, and then.

"I can't hold it in any more! Me and Matty had sex last night!"

Arthur's mouth dropped open, staring between Matthew and Alfred with a look of perfect shock. "You're too young" he mouthed wordlessly,

"If Matthew consented I see no problem" Francis shrugged, "but Alfred should really know what is and isn't appropriate to talk about at the breakfast table."

Alfred closed his mouth again, then spoke again, "So did you and Arthur fuck last night too?"

_This is the end, sorry this was such a short last chapter. But I've got another idea for a fic I really want to pursue now, plus I also have all my school work._


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